Blind Spots
by coolbyrne
Summary: A triple murder brings back an old friend and old memories.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Blind Spots

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

CHAPTER: 1/13

RATING: T

SUMMARY: A triple murder brings back an old friend and old memories.

A/N: I rarely write long multi-chapter fics so let me say a few things. I do not write then post, so don't let the question mark in the number of chapters worry you- the story is almost finished. The question mark is only there because my beta hasn't broken the whole thing down into chapters yet. Updates will be once a week, and perhaps more, as I want to post the final chapter before the season 5 premiere. Also go into this knowing that case files for me are less about the cases and more about the character interaction and development, so I apologize in advance for the lack of twists in the case. I'm hoping the characters make up for anything the rest might be lacking. My thanks to happycamper5 for the beta and the pushing... I mean, encouragement.

...

CHAPTER ONE

She'd never admit it, but she always enjoyed the thrill of a crime scene. Not that she had sociopathic tendancies; she wasn't happy someone was beaten or raped or murdered. If she could have prevented them, of course she would have done so. But these things happened well before her arrival, so all she could do now was catch the person responsible. That's where the thrill came into it. But, no matter how logical it seemed in her head, Jane Rizzoli was pretty sure it would never sound that way coming out of her mouth, so she never once asked her colleagues if they felt the same. She was fairly certain they wouldn't understand. _Probably try to have me committed_, she thought.

After identifying herself to the officer on scene, she slipped under the crime scene tape and stepped inside the small coffee shop. The investigating officers parted to let her through, which led her right to the crouching form of Maura Isles.

"Watch your step," the pathologist said without looking up.

Jane glanced down at the ridiculous disposable booties they were forced to wear at a crime scene. She wasn't in any danger of contaminating any evidence, though she could see the reason for the warning.

"There's a lot of reddish-brown substances," Jane commented.

She wrote down a few more points on her clipboard before looking up. Rather than acknowledging Jane's gentle reminder of a previous case, she simply said, "Hello, Jane."

The brunette couldn't help but smile. "Hello, Maura." She put her hands on her hips and looked around. "So what's the story, Nancy Drew?"

Maura stood and furrowed her brows as she tried to decipher Jane's latest reference to pop culture, a field in which her intelligence rarely ventured. "A detective?" Her eyes lit up at Jane's approving nod. The frown re-appeared. "That doesn't make sense, Jane. If our positions indicate anything, it would be that you're Nancy Drew. You are the detective after all. Perhaps in the future, a more suitable comparison would be Frances McGill. She was one of the first women to become a criminal pathologist and -"

Jane held up a hand. "Lighten up, Frances. What do we have?"

The question was answered by the young man who appeared at her side. "Three dead, two on their way to the hospital, one of them because he was shot, the other for shitting himself."

"Detective!" Maura admonished. "The poor man was in absolute shock. He saw three men killed."

"At least he didn't upchuck all over the scene." Jane glanced at her partner. "You're looking a little green, Frost."

"I'm black. You can't tell that."

She let that pass but made sure he saw her eyeroll. "What else you got?"

Flipping through his notes, he recited the information: "Only have I.D on two of the victims. The one slumped over the counter is Joseph Flynn and the guy outside the bathroom is Liam Byrne. Both from New York. No I.D. on the big guy on the floor." He flipped a page. "Based on the little we could gather, a masked gunman came in sometime around 11PM. This is one of the few places in the area that's open at this time of night, but as you can see, it's kind of a dump."

"Hey!" Jane interjected, "I used to come here when I was in high school."

This piqued Maura's interest. "Did you really?"

She turned her body to the smaller woman. "Yeah. It was a popular hangout for the unpopulars."

Before Maura could query further, Frost continued, "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, the place was pretty empty. Guy opened fire. Forensics found eight shells, but Dr. Isles only found six bullet holes."

"Six in the bodies," she corrected. "Based on my cursory inspection, two entered the body nearest the bathroom." She indicated the placement with a tilt of her head. "One in the body slumped over the counter." Jane followed her gaze to the aforementioned counter. "And two in the victim at my feet. I've been informed there's a bullet in one of the men currently on their way to the hospital."

"Shoulder wound, according to the EMT," Frost added. "No other witnesses, though. I mean, beyond the survivors and the passerby who heard the shots and called the cops."

Jane processed the information. "Time of death? Which one died first?"

The pathologist's eyes widened. Jane might as well have asked if it was okay to wear white after Labour Day. "You know I can't make that assessment at this time. There's tests to run and autopsies to perform."

"Oh, come on, Maura. Live a little," the detective practically whined. "Take a gue... guarded estimate."

Frost nodded his approval. "Nice save."

"Thanks, partner."

Maura shook her head. "As much as I admire the way your synapses tango with your neurons, you'll have to wait."

"Oh, Dr. Isles, I love it when you talk dirty." Frost waggled his eyebrows and deftly avoided Jane's punch to the shoulder. "Hey, Doc, maybe you can help me with this one - what's the scientific name for mental blue balls? Jane's synapses are all fired up with no where to go."

Maura frowned and let the words roll off her tongue. "Blue balls?"

"Someone's about to have no balls," Jane glared at the young man.

While the doctor often enjoyed deciphering the social banter, she returned to the place she felt most comfortable. Logic. With hands on hips, she looked at the three victims and back to Jane. Curious hazel eyes were met by inviting warm ones. "You're wondering if all three men were targeted, or if only one was meant to die and the other two became collateral damage." When she saw Jane nod again, she continued. "Time of death might open up the latter line of thinking, based on who died last."

"That's my girl."

Maura shook her head. "But time of death doesn't necessarily indicate the chronological order of the shooting."

"No," the detective agreed, "but it's a start."

Now it was Jane's turn to look around. When her eyes narrowed, Frost remarked, "You get that same look when you step into the bullpen and forget why you're there."

"Event boundary," Maura helpfully supplied with a smile. "Often moving from one room to the next creates a gap in the brain as it compartmentalizes tasks assigned to each room. If one could only avoid doors, this wouldn't be such a problem."

Jane cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, not at the veracity of Maura's comment, as she never knew a time the pathologist was wrong, but because of the woman's ability to spout the most arcane facts at the oddest times. Instead, she replied to her partner. "I'm just counting. Three victims, right?"

Frost pointed at the bodies and counted aloud. "One, two, three. Yep."

"Two survivors. The cook and another customer."

Waving his note book, he replied, "That's what the first responders told me."

"What is it, Jane?" Maura queried.

"Well... where's the waitress?"

Both Maura and Frost looked around, as if the aforementioned waitress would materialize from behind the counter or under a table.

"Shit!" Frost exclaimed.

"Language, Barold."

"Sorry, Doc." He flipped through his notes. "Nothing. Not a one word of a waitress."

Jane tilted her chin towards the kitchen. "Check and see if they've got a schedule somewhere. See who was supposed to cover the shift. Then talk to the cook. I'll see if our second guy is available yet. Then, we'll track down the waitress."

"Sounds like a plan," Frost said.

She gestured to his note pad. "What's the name of the second guy?"

"The cook's name is... Mike Blake," he checked the information. "Your guy's Daniel Ryan. Both sent to General. I'll meet you there."

As the young detective left them, Maura quietly asked, "What's wrong, Jane?"

The brunette shook her head, as if chasing away the fog from her brain. "Sorry?"

"It was a brief reaction, but your eyes widened and your mouth opened, ever so slightly."

"I always have my gob open, Maura, you know me."

"I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at you. Your 'gob', as you so eloquantly put it, is not always open. You were surprised when Detective Frost told you the second man's name."

Jane made a mental note to look up the word 'inordinate' later. "Maybe it's just this place." She blew a lock of hair from her face. "I haven't been here in over a decade. That name Frost said - Daniel Ryan - I knew a Danny Ryan growing up."

"I can see why that might cause you distress," the shorter woman sympathized. "It would be worth noting that Boston has the highest percentage of Irish population in the United States, at almost sixteen percent, and that 'Ryan' is the seventh most popular Irish surname. It comes from the old Irish name 'O'Riain' and-"

For the second time that night, Jane halted Maura's tangent with a raised hand. "Thanks, Google," she said, not unkindly. "I gotta go. Frost gets antsy at hospitals." She smiled broadly as she watched the pathologist stumble over the word 'antsy'. "There's a test later, so make sure you know what it means."

"I'll ruminate on the term while I prep the bodies for autopsy." She either didn't see, or chose to ignore Jane's grimace. "I'll see you later?" When the brunette nodded, Maura playfully added, "Please extend my invitation to Detective Frost. I know his penchant for the exposed inner workings of the human body."

"Penchant," Jane repeated. "Isn't that the opposite of 'emptying the contents of one's stomach over one's shoes'?" she quipped with a fake uppercrust accent.

"Yes."

"A joke from Dr. Isles at a crime scene?" She brought her hand to her chest. "Be still my heart."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

...

To be fair to her partner, Jane wasn't too fond of hospitals, either. There was something about the sterility and the silence that she found weird. In her charcoal grey suit, black boots and matching hair, she was a dark swatch across a white tableau and it always unnerved her.

She coughed slightly to get the attention of the attendant at the nurses's station. A young intern looked up and smiled. "Detective Rizzoli."

Jane wondered what it said about her job that she'd become a familiar presence at the hospital. The information on the name badge said ' '. She thought she'd try the flattery route. "Jack, right?"

She regretted it immediately, as she watched his smile grow and his eyes travel as far down as the counter would allow, then up to her face. The scowl he found there killed his interest and made him subconsciously cover his manhood. "Um... what can I do for you, Detective Rizzoli?"

She let her distain linger for a moment, to make sure he got the point. Finally, she said, "I'm looking for a Daniel Ryan. Gunshot victim who came in about an hour ago."

Jack looked down at his clipboard. "Yeah, went right into surgery. Looks like a lucky guy," he commented as his eyes skimmed the information. "Projectile through the subscapularis, nicked the coracoid process, and out the other side." He puffed out his chest slightly and waited for her to ask for the layman's definition. He was soon to be disappointed.

Considering the number of autopsies she'd been witness to, it wouldn't have said much about her abilities if she hadn't picked up something along the way. "So a bullet went through the back shoulder and came out the front, somewhere under the collarbone." She wanted to tell him she had her own personal Googlespeak, and at least Maura wasn't smug about it. She made a note to not be so impatient with the pathologist next time.

He opened his mouth to protest the simplicity of her words, but decided against it. Defeated, he replied, "I suppose so."

"Right. Is his doctor available?"

Jack glanced up at the large analogue clock on the wall behind him. "Let me page him."

Jane pushed away from the counter while she waited, not wanting to give the young man any more reason to chat her up. 'All I want is to do my job,' she quietly whispered to herself, unaware that her movement away from the nurses' station gave the intern a better view of what he had been ogling earlier. Luckily for her - and most likely Jack as well - a doctor stepped out of a nearby elevator and walked towards her.

Holding out a hand, he said rather than asked, "Detective Rizzoli."

"Doogie Howser?" She closed her eyes momentarily and grimaced. "Sorry. That was rude."

He accepted her apology and handshake with a smile. "It won't surprise you to know I get that quite often, and in fact, am old enough to understand the reference. Nathan Green, attending physician."

"Jane Rizzoli, attending idiot."

He laughed and led her to the station. "You're here about the shooting victim from earlier this evening."

"Daniel Ryan, yes."

"Is that his name? I'm sorry, I generally don't pay much attention to those things."

"I guess you're more concerned about saving his life."

"Yes. Now, if you have questions about his condition or his treatment, those I can help you with."

"Jack was very helpful with that," she gestured to the intern with a tilt of her chin. "Projectile through the subscapularis, nicked the coracoid process, and out the other side."

"Bullet through the back of the shoulder, and out through the front, just under the clavicle, yes."

She covered her smirk with a question. "He's an eyewitness to the murder of at least three men. Can I see him?"

The intern's snort made both the doctor and the detective turn. The younger man coughed theatrically to cover his faux pas. "Sorry, dry throat."

"What is it, Mr... Hearns?" Dr. Green read the name tag. His tone brooked no further time-wasting. Jane was impressed.

"Uh... it's just...," Jack stumbled. "His personal belongings were collected and used to identify him. The first responders were looking for emergency contact info. They found his medical alert card. He's blind."

"He's what?" Jane asked incredulously.

He frowned. "According to his medical alert card-"

The detective held up a hand but said nothing in reply. Dr. Green was not as willing to let the young man off lightly. "And you thought it was appropriate to make a joke of it?"

Hearns glanced nervously between Jane and the doctor. Falling on his sword seemed to be his only option. "I'm sorry. That was way out of line."

"Ya think?" The sarcasm practically dripped from her words.

His head lowered and he tried a different tact. "We've got a nurse dropping by his room every 10 minutes, just in case he wakes up."

She cut through his apologetic bullshit. "What room is he in?"

"363."

"Can I see him?" This time, she directed her question to the doctor.

"Of course. He won't be much help to you considering the amount of medication he's under at the moment, but I don't see any harm in a visit." Dr. Green narrowed his eyes at the intern before returning his attention to Jane. "Just make sure you knock or otherwise announce yourself when you enter the room. The likelihood of him being awake is minimal, but you never know, and you wouldn't want him to survive a gunshot wound only to keel over from a heart attack."

She looked at Hearns and said, "Now, that joke is acceptable." With a smile and a thanks to the doctor, she bypassed the elevator and took the emergency stairs, two at a time.

In the end, she didn't have to announce herself; the attending nurse was coming out of the room as Jane arrived.

"Oh!" the nurse quietly exclaimed. "Sorry," she added with a soft laugh. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone out here."

Jane looked up and down the empty hallway. She could see how it would freak someone out. It was freaking her out. "My bad," she apologized. "Detective Rizzoli, I'm here to see Daniel Ryan. Is this his room?"

"I hope so. Otherwise I've been checking up on the wrong man every 10 minutes for the last two hours." She smiled again and stepped away from the door. "He's still sedated, but you can go in if you like. Just leave the door open. We figure if he wakes up between my rounds, the sounds of the hospital might not startle him so much."

Jane wondered exactly what sounds the nurse may have meant. Even Maura's floor was louder, and that was a freakin' morgue. Rather than question the nurse's assertion, she simply nodded. "Thanks."

She wasn't sure what to expect when she walked into the room. Detective Rizzoli hoped to find a witness to a triple homicide, but Jane... well, Jane didn't know what she hoped to find. It had been over 20 years since she'd last seen Danny Ryan. And Maura was right - it wasn't exactly an uncommon surname in Massachusetts. So there was a chance it wasn't someone she knew, wasn't someone who had gone through the horrors of middle school with her, wasn't someone who, at one time, knew some of her deepest, darkest secrets. Maybe she wouldn't have to figure out a way to avoid analyzing a time in her life she'd sooner forget, avoid wondering why she'd let go of so many relationships.

That avoidance was not to be. The soft fluorescent light above his head - surely for the nurse's benefit rather than the patient's? - revealed a face she was surprised to recognize immediately. A little older, a little leaner, but if there was any question, the 4-inch scar that ran diagonally through his right eyebrow banished any doubt. She knew that scar was courtesy of having his face smashed into the concrete playground while she stood by and watched. Twenty-five years on and she could still feel the guilt stain her cheeks.

"Danny Ryan," she whispered. "What happened?"

...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Please excuse and accept any hazy legalities that I may have used in this chapter. Must be all those other crime shows rubbing off on me. :) This is a short-ish chapter, to be followed by a longer one later this evening.

...

**CHAPTER THREE**

Her exit from the stairwell was timed perfectly with Frost stepping out of the elevator.

"Hey, partner," he greeted.

"Hey," she replied and wordlessly motioned to the nurses' station. "Get anything useful?"

"Well," he began as he looked down at his notes. Still fresh to the squad, he didn't yet fully trust his ability to get the details right. "Mr. Michael Blake 'saw nuthin', heard nuthin', and don't know nuthin' on accounta bein' in the coolah,'" Frost mangled a flat accent.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Any proof he was in the cooler?"

"Forensics are checking to see if the security cameras actually worked or were just there for show. I'll follow up with them in the morning."

"Good work, Frost," she said as they reached the desk.

"As for the waitress-"

"Hold that thought."

"Hey again, Detective Rizzoli." Hearns nodded to her partner. "Detective Frost, right?"

Jane didn't give the two men time for chit-chat. "You said the first responders went through Daniel Ryan's I.D to find emergency contact information. I don't see anyone here."

The intern frowned and shrugged. "I'm guessing he didn't have any listed?"

Now it was Jane's turn to frown. "But I know he has family in the city."

Frost's eyes widened. "You know him?"

She waved away his question. "Long story. Later." To the intern, she asked, "You have his I.D here?"

"Yeah, we should." He pulled a ring of keys on a janitor's chain as he walked to a nearby cabinet. It took him less than a minute to return with a file.

"Thanks," she said and opened it on the counter top. The wallet had 27 dollars, each denomination folded a specific way. In the card slots was a credit card, a California I.D card, and the aforementioned medical alert card. Separate from these was a debit card, its right corner cut for reasons Jane could only assume was for easier identification. That was it; no other cards, no photos, no contact information. The only other item in the file was a smartphone, which Jane picked up and turned on. The screen saver was the Boston Red Sox logo, and for a minute, it made her smile.

Hearns looked upside down at the phone in her hand. "Yeah, I think the first responders tried to unlock it, but couldn't figure out the pattern."

Jane studied the nine dots and tried to imagine what she'd make the code if she were blind. Something easy, but enough to stop it from accidentally turning on in a pocket. Straight across the top and down the left side? Nope. Down the right? Straight across the bottom and up the left side? Up the right side? She had one more try before the phone would ask her for a secondary password. Her last shot was a whistle in the dark - a straight swipe across from left to right, then back again. She didn't realize Frost had been hovering over her shoulder.

"Good guess!" he said.

She jumped. "Jesus, Frost!" Calmer, she said, "I was just trying to figure out what a blind guy might use."

This information was new to her partner. "Our eyewitness is blind?"

"Yeah," she said and waited for a sarcastic quip. When it didn't come, she raised an eyebrow. "What? No comment about a blind eyewitness?"

Frost pulled back in surprise. "What? No! Give me some credit, would ya?"

She slowly turned to look at the intern until he looked away, suitably shamed. "Right. Well, we'll get someone over here to sign this into BPD's possession."

"He's living in Oakland - you'd think he had to have some kind of help getting here," Frost surmised.

"And that's the kind of information I hope is in the phone."

"So looks like our work here is done," Frost concluded. "What's next?"

Jane ran her left hand through her long hair, then blew away an errant lock. "You were going to tell me about the waitress."

"Oh, yeah. According to the schedule in the manager's office, Valerie Kincaid was supposed to be working tonight." The young cop checked his watch. "Or last night. Whatever. That bit was verified by the cook. When I asked him what happened to her, he said-"

"'I don't know nuthin'," Jane finished.

With a chuckle, he glanced down at his notes once again. "I called the desk sergeant at the E-5; it's the local precinct for that borough. Two unis went to her house, but no one was home. Didn't have any reason to get a better look inside, so we'll have to go check it out."

Her neck cracked as she tried to twist out some of the tension. "Let's leave that until we know more about her. First thing in the morning, go through her records and see what we can find. Maybe track down a phone number and go from there."

They started for the exit as they continued talking. "Maybe I can pull up some banking records, too," Frost offered.

"You think she might have taken a runner?"

He shrugged. "Might be why no one was home at one in the morning. Anyway, it won't take much to track her. Technology's a wonderful thing."

"Technology is creepy," Jane said with a shudder as they arrived at their car.

Frost looked at her over the roof. "If you'd use it for more than porn, you'd learn a lot."

She opened the driver's door. "Who says I haven't learned a lot from porn?" she said before lowering her long frame into the car.

...

By the time they got back to the station and picked up their respective cars, it was almost one-thirty and, by the time Jane got home, it was closer to two. Her last text message of the day, as it was almost every day, was from Maura.

_Call me when you get in, regardless of the time._

She somehow managed to lock the front door, turn on the light, kick off her boots, and toss her keys into a nearby bowl all in one move before firing off a quick reply. She figured it wouldn't wake the doctor up but would fulfill her obligation to answer. If she had learned anything during their friendship, it was that Maura Isles hated to be ignored.

She apparently also hated it when Jane circumvented her request, because the detective quickly received a text in return.

_I believe I said 'Call'. It's the same number to which you just sent your unsolicited text message._

Jane was hopping out of her pants while she read the phone that had been tossed on the bed. The light from the screen illuminated the darkened room. She stuck her tongue out. "Well, you're just gonna have to wait," she informed the inanimate object as she pulled on a night shirt and walked into the bathroom. The phone buzzed again. Poking her head out, she yelled, "I'm brushing my teeth, Maura!"

Considering there were no further notifications as she washed up, she could almost believe Maura heard her. Another text message explained the silence.

'I'm waiting.'

Jane couldn't help but laugh. After a final check of the front door and an adjustment of her pillows, she hit the familiar speed dial number.

"I was beginning to wonder," Maura said.

"Hello to you, too," Jane replied. "I had to check the locks. You know how I am when Jo's with Ma." She could almost hear Maura's smile at the reference to the small dog. "And in my defense, I figured you'd be in bed by now."

"I am in bed."

"I meant sleeping."

"Oh, I see. Well, I can't very well sleep if I know you're not sleeping."

Jane burrowed her head into the pillow. "That's so sweet, Maura."

"My house is closer to the station. You know you can sleep here any time," she said, slightly wounded.

"I know, but I don't have a change of clothes there. I'll bring some over next time, okay?"

This seemed to appease the doctor, because she moved on to another subject. "Did you find out anything at the hospital?"

She shielded her eyes with her forearm. "Let's not talk about that right now."

While often woefully inadequate at reading other people's emotions, Maura saw right through her words. "I'm sorry, Jane."

"How about you?" she asked as she stifled a yawn. "Did you find anything at the morgue?"

"I've left them to cool to the proper temperature of-"Maura stopped, realizing this was most likely an inappropriate subject at 2 in the morning. "But let's not talk about that right now."

Jane rolled on her side and closed her eyes. "What should we talk about?"

"Why don't we talk about me treating you to La Bakeria in the morning? Say around 8?"

That was almost enough to get Jane to open her eyes. "Really?"

"Really."

"I love you, Maura."

There was a long silence on the other end, though Jane didn't notice it in her sleepy haze. It was a minute before Maura replied, "I suspect it's the lure of a triple chocolate brownie that elicts your affection, Jane."

The detective's chuckle was low and husky with sleep. "Yeah, maybe. But not totally."

There was another stretch of silence until Maura could hear the regularity of breathing brought on by sleep. She took advantage of the moment and whispered, "I love you too, Jane."

...


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This will most likely be the longest chapter I will post for this story. However, I wanted to not only include some nice Jane/Maura interaction, but to formally introduce the original character through dialogue as well. So you get both with this large update. I hope you enjoy!

...

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Even at this hour, the small bakery was bustling with the sound of people getting their early morning caffeine fix, and the smell of baked goods that offered other temptations. Maura quickly spotted her own temptation and made her way to the small table.

Jane's eyes lifted from her coffee and smiled. "Fancy meeting you here, Dr. Isles."

"And you, Detective Rizzoli," the blonde beamed. Maura acknowledged the cup with a small pout. "I told you it was going to be my treat." She put her purse down on the table and took the seat opposite Jane.

"Don't get too comfy," Jane warned her. "This was just the entree." She punctuated the point by draining the remains of her coffee.

"I see. You know, I'm not sure how comfortable I am enabling this addiction."

Jane waved away Maura's faux concern and scoffed, "I can quit any time I want." There was a pause and a pointed look from Maura. "What? I just choose to not do it today." Without another word, the pathologist stood and made her way to the counter. "Don't forget the brownie!" Jane called out.

...

The noises Jane made as she ate the dessert bordered on orgasmic, but she didn't care. It was a damn good brownie. Besides, while she'd never admit it, she kind of enjoyed seeing the flush stain Maura's cheeks. As she popped the last bite into her mouth she sighed, "God, that's soooo good, Maura." With an over-exaggerated lick of her fingers, she burst out laughing.

Maura was not amused. "I don't know why I continue to buy that for you. First, it's completely unhealthy at any time of the day, let alone first thing in the morning. Second, I...I feel almost voyeuristic watching you," she stammered.

"You're adorable when you get all flustered." Jane leaned over and covered Maura's hand with her own. "Do you need a cigarette?"

The inference was lost on the blonde. "Why would I require nicotine? You know I don't smoke." When the only response from Jane was an amused shake of her head, Maura continued. "If either of us need anything, I suggest you and your dessert need to get a room."

"So you get that joke but not the one about the cigarette?" Jane sat back. She swirled the remnants of her coffee and took a final gulp. "I guess I could stop by the hospital and check in on my eyewitness since, coincidentally, the hospital is around the corner."

"Is it?" feigned Maura. "What a coincidence."

"Mm-hmm," Jane facetiously agreed.

"I don't have to be at work for another 37 minutes. Would you like me to walk with you?"

"I'm on to you, you know." Maura's reply was a simple tilt of her head and a lift of her brows. "Uh-uh. I'm a detective, remember?"

"You're a great detective."

"I'm a great detective," Jane agreed. "That's why I know you're trying to distract me from the fact you think I might need someone to go to the hospital with me."

Maura pursed her lips. "No, it's not a question of need, but rather what you might want," she corrected. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"Well, you're here now, so..." Jane flashed a soft smile. "Thanks."

The two women stood and gathered their things. Flipping her hair back and sliding the delicate purse strap on to her shoulder, Maura smiled. "You're welcome." She was two steps in front of the brunette when she tossed back, "And Jane, if I wanted to distract you, I would have simply licked the foam off the top of my low-fat latte." She got the response she'd intended when she heard the detective stumble into a nearby table.

...

The mood turned sombre as they entered the hospital.

"What should I say to him?" Jane groaned as she rubbed her palms together. On the way over, she'd told Maura the details of Daniel Ryan's blindness. "I just know I'm going to blurt out something stupid - 'Have you seen your mom lately?'"

Maura put her hand on Jane's arm. "Don't worry about it. You'll do fine." When she got a look of disbelief in return, she said, "Besides, I think he'll be too happy to see you to notice."

"See!" Jane pointed at her. "That's what I mean! He can't see me, but how much do you want to bet I'll use every possible synonym for the words 'see' or 'look'?"

"I can't wait to hear you incorporate 'behold' into the conversation."

"Maura!"

The doctor sighed. "Just say, 'I'm Detective Jane Rizzoli,' and go from there." The brunette all but stomped her foot in protest, but Maura had plenty of experience with Jane's petulance. Changing her grip from a caress to a clinch, she practically pushed the detective through the door of Room 363.

"Hey!" she exclaimed as she staggered into the room.

"Hey?" came the startled reply from the bed.

She shooed Maura's hands away and mouthed the word 'Stop!' as the woman continued to push her into the room.

The patient tilted his head to the side and tried again. "Hello?"

Cautiously taking a place at the foot of the bed, Jane rubbed her palms together before finally saying, "Daniel Ryan?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I hope so."

Maura, standing silently to Jane's right, gave the detective a slight nudge with her elbow.

"Danny Ryan?" Jane asked.

Now the man frowned. "Christ, no one's called me that since..." He turned his head away from the voice and seemed to be staring intently at the wall beside his bed. "Jane? Jane Rizzoli?"

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. As she walked to the side of the bed, she said, "It's me."

He sat up straighter and ignored the wincing pain that shot through his right shoulder. "Holy shit!"

"Don't let Sister Winifred hear you say that," she said.

He laughed. "I still have the scars on my knuckles," he informed her as he held out his hands.

She took his gesture as an excuse to lean in for an embrace. It was quick but heartfelt.

"Whoa," he said. "A hug from Jane No-Hugs Rizzoli?" His eyes narrowed. "I didn't die on the table, did I?"

"Knock it off," she smiled. "Besides, I'm gonna live forever."

"Based on some of the things I've been reading about you, Detective Jane Clementine Rizzoli of the Boston Police Department, I'd almost believe you."

Jane realized for the first time that she hadn't formally introduced herself. "How did you know it was me?"

"You being a detective, you mean?" He didn't wait for the nod he couldn't see. "I told you- I've read about you. Well, with the program I use, 'hear' about you would be more accurate."

It was a shake of the head that she had given him. "No, I mean when I walked in. All I said was your name."

"Oh Jane," Daniel chuckled. "You've had that voice since 4th grade. Which was a bit disconcerting to hear coming out of the mouth of a 10 year old." He waited a moment before asking rhetorically, "Are you blushing?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, please keep talking," he mock-begged. "I'm old enough now to appreciate it." Maura pressed her lips together to stifle her laugh. "Besides," he continued, "you always smell like lavender. You're still wearing that body spray from The Body Shop."

It was a statement rather than a question, and it was one Jane couldn't refute. "It was discontinued 8 years ago and I swear my mother bought out the entire supply. I get it as a stocking stuffer every year."

"Mrs. Rizzoli." He smiled at a private memory. "She's not eucalyptus and spearmint, though." He turned his head and looked just beyond Maura, who had moved to Jane's side.

The doctor placed her right hand flat against her chest and nodded her appreciation for his accuracy. "Yes!" she confirmed. Realizing his comment was a negative, she corrected, "I mean, no. No, she's not. Yes, I am. Eucalyptus and spearmint."

"She's also Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts," Jane dryly added.

Maura happily continued. "I've found eucalyptus and spearmint to be the most effective eliminator of decomposition odour."

It was Jane's turn to elbow her friend. "Not now," she whispered.

Her plea was unnecessary however, as Daniel didn't seem to mind. In fact, he laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Wait." He suddenly sobered. "Chief Medical Examiner. Are you sure I'm not dead?"

"Actually, the Chief Medical Examiner in fact covers a wide range of duties, though yes, I will admit my specialty-" she side-stepped another elbow, "in this case is moral support and explaining any medical terms Jane may not know."

"Ah, I see. Figuratively." He made sure his tone was light. "Well, as far as I've been told, there's not much to explain - gunshot wound from back to front, under the clavicle."

"May I look at your medical file?" Maura asked.

"Sure."

With his permission, she flipped the chart open. After a moment, she glanced up at Jane and nodded. To Daniel, she concurred with his assessment. "Pretty straight forward. No serious damage though you'll require some physical therapy when you get out of the hospital."

"Good thing I'm a southpaw like Jane," he said as he touched the bandage below his right collarbone. His eyes looked off to the side again. "Since you're a homicide detective, Jane, I take it someone died at Sam's."

"Yeah," she replied, "three people, in fact."

"Shit."

"You and the cook are our only eye witnesses. And the cook don't know nuthin'," she drawled.

"And I'm blind. It's okay to say it, you know." When she said nothing, he tried something different. "School seems like so long ago, Jane. I can't imagine anyone calls you 'Roly Poly Rizzoli' anymore."

She furrowed her brows. "Not in years."

He could hear the confusion in her voice. "Well, first of all, as brief as your hug was, I made sure to get a good feel." His smirk was a joyful expression of accomplishment that made Maura laugh. "Second," he reached for a nearby glass of water from the bedside table, took a drink, then carefully returned it to its place, "ask Eucalyptus and Spearmint to explain Stargardt Disease."

"Oh!" Maura exclaimed as she put his actions together with his words.

When she said nothing more, Jane nudged her. "That's your cue, Encyclopedia Brown."

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "_Fundus Flavimaculatus_, otherwise known as Stargardt's Disease was discovered in 1909 by Karl Stargardt."

"What are the odds he'd have the same name?" Jane deadpanned.

Ignoring her smirk and Daniel's chuckle, she continued. "It's a genetic disease that essentially is a build up of toxic metabolite lipofuscin in the retinal pigmented epithelium." Jane's expression hadn't changed, and she realized her definition wasn't helping. "Blind spots, Jane." She turned back to Daniel. "If I may ask, what is your visual deficiency?"

"My blind spots are too advanced to rate my vision on a 20/20 scale," he explained. "I find giving people my blind spot percentage help them understand better. I've got blind spot coverage of about 85%."

Maura nodded. "But your peripheral vision is still intact?"

"Yes."

She looked at Jane. "Imagine you're wearing sunglasses that are entirely blacked out. You can still see around the edges, but only if you look straight ahead."

Now it was Daniel's turn to nod. "That's basically it."

Jane gave this some thought before replying, "So you can see the edges of your vision. You can see peripherally."

"To some degree, yes."

Maura returned her attention to Daniel. "If I may ask-"

"Just ask, Maura," Jane cut in. To Daniel, she said, "She'll just keep asking."

He laughed. "I don't mind. While her voice lacks that 2 pack a day rasp of yours, Jane, it's pleasant in its own way."

"Should I describe the blush that's crept across _her_ face?" she asked.

"Jane!" Maura admonished. Gathering her professional self back together, she asked, "Stargardt's Disease usually develops in childhood. When were you diagnosed?"

He shifted a bit, tilting his head in Jane's direction. "Remember those godawful glasses I wore in third grade?"

"I remember you cried the first day you came to school in them."

"And for days after that, just not at school. After Billy Tucker knocked them off and smashed my head into the concrete under the monkey bars, I learned being a cry baby was detrimental to my health." He pointed to the scar on his forehead.

Maura gasped. "That's horrible!"

"That was life in third grade. And every grade after that until I left Boston."

"I'm sorry," Jane apologized, eyes downcast.

He frowned. "What are you sorry for?"

"I stood there while Billy Tucker beat you up."

His frown deepened. "Is that how you remember it?" When there was no response, he shook his head. "He was friends with Tim Reynolds and Randy O'Neill, do you remember?"

"Yeah," she answered. "All three were doing third grade again."

"Right, so they were a year older than us. Big, brutish kids for that age, too." He closed his eyes at the memory. "Jane, Randy kicked you in the back of the legs and held you back by your pony tail. Tim broke my glasses and Bill did the rest. There was nothing you could have done. I didn't expect you to do anything."

Maura quietly touched Jane's arm in support, and the detective took a deep breath. As he told the story, the memories came back and she realized his version was the right one. It didn't make her feel any less guilty, though. "Okay, but I'm still sorry."

"Of course you are," he smiled with a shake of his head. "Anyway, as it turns out, the glasses weren't even worth the beating I got from Billy or the one I got at home when Clint found out."

Jane bristled at the name of Daniel's stepfather. "He was always an asshole."

"Well, he's a dead asshole now, so there's always that to keep me warm at night. As for your question, Eucalyptus and Spearmint, I wasn't officially diagnosed until I was almost twenty. Everyone just thought I had really bad vision."

"Can it be fixed?" Jane asked.

Maura shook her head. "Unfortunately, there's no cure. It can be delayed with dark sunglasses and low light. Though I've read the FDA gave clearance in 2010 to a Phase I/II multicenter clinical trial using retinal cells derived from human embryonic stem cells." Science was her anchor, and she was glad to bring the topic back around to her comfort zone."Is that why you're here? I heard the laboratory doing the trials is in Massachusetts."

"Marlborough, yes," he answered. "But no, I'm not here for the trials. I came back for Bobby Waterston's funeral."

Jane made a face. "I didn't know Bobby died."

"Suicide."

"Oh, I remember him," Maura noted. "Self-inflicted gunshot wound with a .38 caliber revolver." Realizing the inappropriateness of her recitation, she quietly said, "I'm sorry."

"So am I," Jane said to Daniel. "I didn't know. I mean, I didn't keep in contact with anyone from those days."

"Don't apologize," he said. "He was going through some tough times. Hell, I think he'd been going through tough times since the first grade. He called me out of the blue about a month ago. I guess he just wanted to talk about the good ol' bad ol' days with someone who went through it with him. Remember he had the biggest crush on Debbie Nichols? What a bitch."

Maura gasped and Jane elbowed her. "Aren't you going to get up on him about his language?"

The blonde shook her head. "I wouldn't dream of admonishing someone I don't know."

"Maura, meet Daniel. Daniel, meet Eucalyptus and Spearmint. Now you can 'admonish' him as much as you 'admonish' me. And just so you know, Debbie Nichols is a dead bitch."

"Jane!" Maura exclaimed.

"See, what did I tell you?"

"Dead?" Daniel repeated. "Wow. I'll pretend I'm all broken up about it. Debbie, Emily and Kate made a lot of lives a living hell."

"Well have I got news for you," Jane leaned forward conspiratorially. "Kate is in prison for murdering Debbie. Emily ended up marrying Steve Sanner, also murdered by Kate."

"Holy shit," he whispered with a laugh. "I leave Boston for 20 years and the whole place goes crazy!"

"We're gonna have to talk about that, too, you know." She told him. "You broke my heart leaving out of the blue like that."

"Yeah, right," he chuckled. "By the time I left, you were all goo-goo about Casey Jones. And it wasn't out of the blue; it was a long time coming."

"'Goo-goo'?" Maura repeated.

"I'll explain later," Jane told her. "And I wasn't 'goo-goo' over Casey."

"Uh-huh. Besides, I was still 300 pounds with Coke bottle glasses. _You_ had finally blossomed into a swan. At least from what I could see with my failing vision."

"You were 300 pounds?" Maura asked. "If I may-"

"You may, Maura!" Jane interjected.

"If I may say," she shot a sidelong glance at the woman beside her, "you have blossomed quite beautifully yourself, Mr. Ryan."

"Ooh, 'Mr. Ryan'," he repeated with a smile. "She's a keeper, Jane." He winked, then went on, "Let's not talk about the irony of my situation."

"What's that?" Jane asked.

"I finally look the way I always dreamed about in school, and I can't even see it." He released a dramatic sigh. "Like Narcissus without a reflecting pool."

Maura laughed and Jane shook her head. "You're amazing, you know that? I don't think I could deal with things the way you have."

"I didn't just learn to deal with it overnight, Jane. It's been almost two decades. Anyway, what else could I do?" The trio were silent for a moment, before he changed the subject. "Bobby's funeral is tomorrow. Any chance I'll be out of here to go?"

Maura flipped through the medical chart again. "I'm not your attending physician, but based on what I'm reading, I don't see how it would be a problem. Given the fact you've just had major surgery, I'm sure they'd like to hold you until Wednesday, but in light of your friend's funeral, you might be able to talk them into an early discharge. You should have someone with you over the next few days, if only to tend to the cleaning of the wound."

"When are you scheduled to go back to Oakland?" Jane asked.

"I'm staying in Boston for a week," he replied, "but I'm assuming this case will keep me here longer."

"Most likely, yeah," she answered. "You staying at your mom's?"

He carefully reached for the glass of water and took another sip. Upon its return to the night stand, he said, "She doesn't know I'm here."

"What?"

"You know how it was, Jane," he said. "And even if you don't know why I left, you have a pretty good idea of what it was like when I was here."

"I'm sorry."

He exhaled loudly. "You know, I propose as of right now, that we both stop apologizing. For better or for worse, those days are long gone, and I'm tired of avoiding the past. It's one of the reasons I decided to come back to Boston."

"It's why you were at Sam's."

"Yes."

"Did you see anything?" She flinched at the word.

"It was quiet when I got there," he recalled. "The place hasn't changed in 20 years. It was easy to make my way to the far booth, where we always sat. Our initials are still carved into the damn table!" They laughed. "I think there were three guys at the counter. Very Irish, based on their accents. Of course I can't really describe them." His eyes narrowed as the memory came back. "I did pass one on the way to the bathroom. I was coming out as he was going in, I bumped into him and he threw some comment at me, like, 'You fuckin' blind, mate?' To which I replied, 'In fact, yes I am.' I'll give him credit, he was very apologetic after that. Smelled like... a sweet cigar and bourbon. The waitress took my order and left. Funny, I never did get my food."

"The waitress wasn't there when we showed up," Jane told him. "We're thinking she booked it after it all happened, or she was tipped off and left before the bullets started flying. How long between you bumping into the guy and the shooting?"

"Hmm, five minutes maybe. I had just sat down again. Sportscenter just started; I was listening to it on my phone, then- BANG."

"Any idea how it all went down?"

He shook his head. "It was so fast and that place is so small. I don't know who was shot first, but I'm pretty sure I got shot last. I'm sorry, Jane. That's all I can tell you."

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to apologize anymore," she reminded him. "Anything stand out to you? Any sounds? Any smells? Did the shooter say anything?"

"Not a word," Daniel answered. "I heard the door open - you know those damn jingle bells above the door Sam's had for decades - and all hell broke loose. I don't think a word was spoken by anyone. 'What the fuck?' may have been uttered, but that could have been by me." He smiled. "Sorry, Dr. Maura."

"Oh, it's just 'Maura'," the blonde told him.

He smiled again. "No, I think 'Dr. Maura' will do."

Jane rolled her eyes. "You're shameless."

"Yeah," he admitted with a laugh. "As for the rest, beyond that smell of bourbon and cigar, nothing seemed out of the ordinary."

"Okay," Jane said. "We're going to head back to the station and follow up on a few things. See if we can piece the crime scene together." She looked around the room. "Anything we can get for you before we go?"

"Could you find me the remote?" he asked. "The Sox are playing this afternoon and I've looked everywhere for the damn thing."

The two women checked the night stands in search of the controller, which Maura found under a magazine by the window. "A-ha!" she declared. "Why in the world would they put it way over here?"

"Closet Yankee fan, clearly," Daniel surmised. "Thanks, Dr. Maura."

Jane squeezed his leg. "We'll stop by later, if that's okay."

"Yeah. If you've got any more questions, I'm not going anywhere."

"Maybe we'll stop by just because," she told him.

His smile was soft and inviting. "That'd be nice."

"Okay, we gotta go." She tugged Maura by the elbow. "C'mon, Eucalyptus and Spearmint."

"It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Ryan," the doctor said.

He beamed at the name. "You, too, Dr. Maura."

...


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Against the advice of my unofficial test audience (party of one), I will stand and fight for the use of "bad" vs. "badly". :) I hope you will forgive me. Here, have a brownie!

...

CHAPTER 5

...

"The two of you are very cute together," Maura said as they left the hospital.

"Cute?" Jane repeated. "I hate that word." She gave the doctor a sidelong look. "You're not trying to set me up, are you?"

Maura shook her head. "No, that's not what I was implying, Jane. What I meant was, I could see why you were such good friends. You're very much alike."

The automatic doors opened and she let the medical examiner go first. "I feel bad."

"Badly," Maura corrected over her shoulder. "And I told you, it's that brownie."

Jane rubbed her stomach. "No, the brownie is just fiiiine. I feel badly," she stressed the correction, "about seeing Danny. There was a time in my life when we were inseparable."

"Based on what I know of your childhood, and what Daniel said, I imagine you two bonded over a common foe."

The wind picked up on their walk back to the bakery, and Jane pulled her collar tightly. "Yeah. The world."

Maura smiled. "You seemed to have picked up where you left off. How old was he when he left Boston?"

"Hmmm, he didn't finish high school here," Jane thought back. "I think he left in 11th grade."

"That's unusual," the doctor noted. "The age of majority in Massachusetts is 18. He would have only been 16 when he left."

"He had a tough home life, Maura," the brunette said quietly. "Hell, he probably thought what happened to him at school was a vacation."

"Yes, he did refer to his step-father as an 'asshole'."

"Language, Dr. Isles," Jane smirked.

"No, it doesn't count when I'm repeating something said by someone else."

"Of course it doesn't. And yes, Clint was an asshole." She held up a hand. "Don't say it."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "By the time he left, I... I don't know."

Maura slipped her arm through Jane's. "You were at different stages of your lives. That's quite common at that age. Things going on at home. Things going on at school. Things going on with your body." Jane groaned at the memory. "The fact that you were different sexes meant you were developing both socially and physically at different times. It only added to the probability of separation."

"I didn't even bother to try and track him down," she said quietly.

"He seems to have no hard feelings about it."

"Yeah." Though she answered in the affirmative, it was clear she was still upset.

They stopped outside the bakery and Maura turned to look at her friend. "As much as it pains me to enable you, would you like me to buy you another coffee?"

Jane's eyes lit up. "And another brownie?"

"Absolutely not."

...

The elevator doors opened and Jane sauntered into the bullpen. Six easy strides brought her to Korsak's desk, where she carefully placed a pristine white cup embossed with a gold emblem. The sergeant looked up from his newspaper.

"Ooh, La Bakeria," he smiled, eyes wide at the pleasure of having something other than the swill from the office coffee maker.

"And," she added with a flourish, "a chocolate muffin. But hold your enthusiasm - I'm pretty sure there's quinoa in it."

Korsak pulled the dessert out of the bag, sniffed it, and shrugged. "It's chocolate."

She laughed and turned to her partner's desk. "Where's Frost?"

"Little boys' room, I think."

With a conspiratorial finger to her lips, she pulled out another chocolate dream and took a bite before putting it back in the bag. The sound of footsteps forced her to quickly swallow and covertly wipe her mouth with her thumb and forefinger. She placed the bag and a coffee on his desk before taking a seat.

"Ooh, La Bakeria," he cooed upon seeing the gifts. Jane rolled her eyes and he was about to comment when his phone buzzed. Briefly looking at the message, he said, "Borough unis went to Valerie Kincaid's apartment again, but didn't get an answer. Door-to-door with the neighbours didn't uncover anything."

"So we don't know if she made it home last night," Jane filled in.

Frost nodded. "Not according to the unis."

"You check if there's an electronic trail?"

"Was just about to do that." The young man tapped a few keystrokes and waited until the waitress's electronic life appeared on the screen. Driver's licence, social security number, banking information, work history, everything. Taking a sip of his coffee, he sighed, "Damn, that's good coffee."

Korsak savoured a taste of his own. "Damn good coffee," he concurred.

"You can thank Maura later," she said. "The hospital and La Bakeria are coincidentally only 10 minutes apart and she treated me before I went to see Daniel Ryan."

"How did that go?"

Though the question could have been interpreted as case related, Jane knew he wanted to know if she was okay. She offered a soft smile of thanks. "It was good. I mean, really good. Not much help in the case, but the rest was... nice." She saw Korsak's raised eyebrows. "Danny Ryan, the shooting victim. I know him," she explained. "Maybe 'knew him' is better. We went through middle school and some of high school together. Haven't seen him for ages."

"He comes back to Boston only to get shot," Frost said with a shake of his head. "Bet he didn't see that homecoming." He realized his choice of words and immediately backpedalled. "Sorry, Jane. I didn't-"

She shook her head. "Believe me, I know where you're coming from." To Korsak's inquisitve look, she said, "He's blind, Vince."

"Shit."

"Well, partially blind," the detective clarified. "Something called Starsguard Disease."

"Stargardt Disease?" Korsak corrected. Now it was his turn to answer an inquisitive eyebrow. "My cousin had it when I was growing up. It's a peripheral thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she answered, then filled in her partner. "Maura says it's like wearing sunglasses and only being able to see around the edges. But peripherally."

Frost thought about this for a moment. "So he can't see straight ahead, but he can kinda see on the sides."

"That's the simplified version, yeah," Jane agreed.

"But not enough to have seen anything last night," Korsak stated.

"No, not really."

"Well, I might have something interesting," Frost said when he glanced up at his monitor. His brow furrowed. "Really interesting."

Jane waited for more, and when nothing was forthcoming, she prompted, "Share with the class?"

"Oh, right," he replied. Turning his monitor around for her to see, he tapped the screen. "See anything that stands out?"

Jane's eyes scoured the information until they fell on the incriminating line. "She used her bank card at a pizza place at 10:49. Danny said the shots happened just after 11."

Korsak leaned forward. "And he's sure?"

"Told me Sportscenter just started; he was listening to it on his phone. Said the shooting happened no more than five minutes later."

Frost peered around the monitor. "So how did she buy a pizza 16 minutes earlier?"

Standing, Jane said, "Print a copy of her driver's licence photo."

"I'm on it."

"Let's take it to the pizza place," she suggested. "Make sure it was her." She tapped her waist, a subconscious check of her gun and badge. "Then let's pay her a visit."

Frost grabbed the photocopy out of the machine before gathering up his coffee and dessert. Jane shot him a look.

"You gonna eat that in the car?"

"Damn right I am." He looked into the bag and called out to a departing Jane. "Hey! There's a bite out of mine!"

...

"Yep, that's her," the 50-something behind the counter said, after peering at the photo of Valerie Kincaid. "I remember her 'cause she asked if we had gluten-free pizza. I says, 'Who do I look like to you, Gordon Ramsay?'"

Frost deadpanned to Jane, "Coming this fall, _Hell's Kitchen: Gluten-Free_."

The owner of the pizzeria, who introduced himself as 'Bruno', ignored the jibe. "So she took an extra thin Italian Flag."

Seeing Frost's confusion, Jane replied, "A Margherita - tomato sauce, mozzarella, and basil."

"Red, white and green," Frost nodded in understanding.

Bruno jerked a chin at Jane. "You Italian?"

"With a name like 'Rizzoli'?" she asked. "Ya think?" Returning to the case, she said, "Did she seem okay to you? Nervous? Anyone come in with her?"

The dark-haired man shrugged. "Besides orderin' a gluten-free pizza, nothin' stood out." He scratched the back of his neck. "You guys said you're homicide. She dead?"

"No," Frost answered, "we're just looking for her in regards to another case."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I was worried maybe it was the pizza. Anyway, if that's it, I got a shitload of prep work to get to."

The detectives thanked him for his time and stepped out of the pizzeria. Jane slipped on her sunglasses and glanced up at the sky. "So it _was_ her."

"How the hell did she do it?" Frost wondered aloud.

"Let's go ask her."

...


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Along with any legal specifics I might employ, please allow a suspension of disbelief with any medical angle I use. I'm aware that Daniel's discharge would be considered incredibly rushed, but I hope you'll excuse the liberities I've taken.

...

CHAPTER SIX

...

As the detectives arrived at the waitress's apartment, Jane felt a quietness that always seemed to trigger danger. With a knowing nod to her partner, she drew her weapon as they started up the stairs. Apartment 403 was at the top, second door to the right. Silently, the two took positions on either side of the door. Jane glanced down at the door handle, then back up to Frost. With a quick nod, he tested the handle. It was unlocked.

She rapped her knuckles on the door. "Valerie Kincaid, Boston Homicide." They waited for a response, and when none came, Jane looked across to her partner. "Do you hear that?"

He tilted his head. "Yeah, sounds like someone's in distress," he whispered, playing along.

"Reasonable cause to go in," she agreed.

Grinning, he quickly turned the handle and pushed the door open. Jane stepped in and immediately scanned the room. Frost covered her left as she moved to her right. Without losing focus on what was in front of him, he kicked the door closed behind him. Jane jutted her chin in the direction of what was most likely the bedroom, and he nodded before disappearing down the hallway. In the meantime, Jane slowly cross-stepped her way through the living room, eyes darting in hidden corners and behind furniture. Her boots quietly hit the kitchen floor and their search was complete.

"Frost," she called out, reaching for her phone.

The young detective quickly finished his own search and joined her. If the tilt of her head towards the floor didn't tell him everything, hearing her instructions on the phone did.

"I need a unit and CSRU at 5499 Lindy Street. Apartment 403. And send the Medical Examiner." Ending the call, she dialled again. "Korsak. I need you to do me a favour. Can you swing over to General and check on Daniel Ryan? Room 363." She listened as the other end spoke. "We're at Victoria Kincaid's waiting for Maura." Another pause. "Yeah, looks like a gunshot wound at close range, but I'm sure Maura will stop me from jumping to conclusions. I'll head over there when she shows." Hanging up, she looked at her partner. "Tell me what happened."

He took in the scene, relishing the opportunity to work with Jane. His eyes flicked not just to the body on the floor, but the items around it. "The chair's tipped over. Looks like a vase has been knocked off the island. There was some struggle."

"Why did she let him in?"

With hands on hips, he looked around again. "She knew him. That's why she's not dead at the door."

"Or," Jane gently suggested, "he forced his way in with the gun that killed her. She tried to make it back to the phone," she pointed to the phone mounted on the kitchen wall, "that's when he taps her."

"Yeah," he agreed, seeing her theory, "could be."

"How much you wanna bet the ballistics will match the bullets from last night?"

He frowned. "You really think it's the same killer?"

Shrugging, she replied, "It's too much of a coincidence. Three guys are dead at a restaurant where she works. She's the waitress from last night and now she's dead. You find anything in the other rooms?"

"Nah," he answered. "We can get CSRU in there, but it all seemed in place."

"Speaking of CSRU, where the hell are they?" she wondered impatiently.

"You thinking the killer's trying to tie up loose ends?"

"I dunno, but I'm not taking any chances." She heard the siren of the squad car approaching. With a tap on his arm, she told Frost, "Track down the cook when Maura starts setting up shop. Make sure he's keeping a low profile. I'll meet you back at the station." She was halfway out the door when she turned. "Uh..."

"I'll catch a ride back with Dr. Isles."

She pointed a finger at him and winked. "Thanks, partner."

The elevator door pinged and the detective nearly ran over the smaller form of the medical examiner. "Oh!" Maura exhaled. She noted Jane's exit. "You're not staying?"

"No," the brunette answered. "The victim is our waitress from last night."

"Oh," she said again, with less exclaim and more introspection. "That's odd, isn't it?"

"My gut tells me it's definitely not a coincidence. You said Danny could be discharged on Friday."

Maura nodded. "With proper medical care, yes."

"Could he be discharged today?"

The doctor tilted her head in confusion. "Why?"

"It may be nothing. But I don't want to take any chances."

"You think his life could be in danger?"

"I dunno. But like I said, no chances."

Maura's mind flashed back to the medical chart. "I suppose he could leave today, but his doctor won't let him go willingly."

Jane nodded, knowing that was the likely answer. "I'll get Danny to sign out AMA."

"Take him to my place."

The detective shook her head. "No, Maura. I don't... you do too much already. He can stay with me until we figure this out."

"Really, Jane? If you have more than 3 Disney BandAids and a tube of Polysporin antibotic cream, I'll eat my shoes. And you know how much I love my Jimmy Choos."

"It's 'eat your hat', Maura. And you'll be surprised to know...," she did a quick catalogue of her medicine cabinet. "Are you sure it's okay to take him to your place?"

The blonde gently touched Jane's arm. "Of course it is. Go."

The detective stepped into the elevator car. Just as the doors were closing, she shouted, "And Frost needs a ride back!"

Maura sighed deeply and made her way to the apartment.

...

"Hello?"

"Danny, it's me. Jane."

He laughed. "If the voice didn't give it away, I don't know who else would be calling. Sorry it took me so long. Someone put the damn phone across the room."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Listen," she got right to it, "I've got someone stopping by to sit with you until I get there. I'm springing you out of the joint."

He laughed again, but sensed there was more to her proposal. "What's goin' on?"

"Where are you staying? I'll swing by and get your things."

"Jane..."

"We just found the waitress from last night. She's dead, Danny."

The news was met with silence, then a long breath. "Shit."

"Yeah. So Maura said medically, you can leave today, but you'll have to sign a waiver to get discharged."

There was no hesitation on his end. "If you think that's what needs to be done, Jane, I'll do it."

She sighed with relief. "Great, Danny. Where were you staying?"

...

"... and then she said 'Banana' and we practically fell over."

Jane softly knocked on the door frame and walked in. "Korsak, are you telling that damn escort story again?"

The older man acknowledged her arrival with a tilt of his chin. "That one never gets old."

"In my defence, no one thought the guy was that well endowed."

Korsak laughed. "Yeah, until he dropped trou."

Jane smiled at the memory. "I swear I saw half the bullpen looking around for a ruler." She looked at the patient in the bed. "So you've met Sergeant Korsak."

"We were just swapping Jane stories," Daniel said with a smile and a wink.

"Yeah, I hear you really liked stone-washed jeans back in the day."

"Can you see my angry face, Danny?" she said between clenched teeth.

The two men laughed. "So what's up, Jane?" Korsak asked, steering them back to the purpose of their visit.

"Maura's at the vic's now. Looks like Kincaid opened the door for her killer and made it as far as the kitchen before he shot her."

"Who's Kincaid?" Daniel asked.

"The waitress from last night," Jane replied.

He brought a hand up to his forehead. "Shit." The pieces slowly fell into place. "And you think the killer's gonna come after me?"

Jane shrugged, though the man couldn't see it. "I dunno, Danny. But I'm not taking the risk." She placed a bag at the end of the bed. "I got your stuff from the hotel. You travel light."

Now he shrugged. "The less stuff I bring, the less likely I'll get caught wearing blue and green together," he said with a smirk.

Korsak looked down at his tie. "What's wrong with blue and green together?"

The brunette could only chuckle. "I'll go talk to the doctor while you get dressed, Danny." To Korsak, she said, "I'll try to get back as soon as I can. I left Frost at the scene. Maybe he'll have something when you get to the station."

"Okay, Jane," he replied. "And I've got some interesting stuff for you when you get there."

"Oh?"

He patted her arm. "It'll keep. Me an' Frost can muddle through things until you show up."

"Ha ha," she said, but softened her words with a smile. "Thanks, Vince."

"No problem." He approached the bed from a sharp angle so Daniel could register the movement. Holding out a hand, he said, "It was nice meeting you, Daniel."

"You too, Vince," the younger man said and returned the hand shake.

After the older man left, Jane turned to her friend. "You gonna be okay if I step out for a bit? I'll get the paperwork ready; probably have to bring a nurse in to make sure everything's good to go."

"Yeah, I'm good," he told her. "Do what you gotta do."

...

"Again, I'd like to make it perfectly clear I'm against this discharge."

Jane nodded at the doctor. "I completely understand. But I'm worried about his health, too. Like, staying alive health."

The doctor looked at Daniel, who was sitting on the edge of his bed in jeans and socks. A shirt was currently out of the question with the IV tube still sticking out of his arm. A blood pressure cuff went around his bicep and the cool surface of a stethescope pressed against his chest.

"Breathe in, please." A few short seconds passed. "Your vitals appear to be fine, Mr. Ryan. Your blood pressure's a bit low, but that's in line with your inactivity." He carefully removed the IV cannula and covered the insertion point with a small bandage. Signing off at the bottom of the medical chart, he told the patient, "Your wound needs to be changed and cleaned three times a day. No showers for at least two weeks. When you bathe, don't get it wet."

Daniel carefully slipped a shirt around his shoulders and Jane stepped in to help. "Thanks, Mom." Turning his head slightly, he said, "And thanks, Doc. I appreciate it."

"You should be thanking your surgeon," the doctor admitted. He waited for Jane to finish the buttons before handing Daniel the clipboard. "Sign at the bottom and you can be on your way."

The patient took the clipboard and balanced it on his knee. "Where?" When the doctor rested his finger at the line, Daniel rested his thumb underneath it and scrawled his name.

Jane looked at it upside down. "I think your penmanship has actually gotten better."

"That's all, Mr. Ryan," the doctor informed him. "You're free to go. But at the first sign of infection, I want you back here immediately."

"Thanks again, Doc. And don't worry." He tilted his head in Jane's direction. "Nurse Rizzoli's got my back."

"Careful," she warned. "Considering the fact you're telling Korsak 'Jane stories', you're more likely to get Nurse Ratched."

...


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

...

After a quick initiation on how to guide him through unfamiliar environments, Jane pulled up to Maura's and walked with Danny to the door. A turn of a key and a 4-digit disarming of the security system got them into the house.

"You shouldn't have a sound-distinct keypad," he told her. "You also shouldn't use your birthday."

"Whatever, smartass," she said. "C'mon, I'll give you the 5-cent tour." She directed him to the guest bedroom, and gave instructions on how to access the bathroom. A circle around the kitchen island took them through the living room and back to the kitchen. "There's an upstairs and a guest house where Ma's staying. I can show you those later if you want. Or feel free to explore on your own, but I'm not responsible for what you find."

"Wow," he whistled in appreciation. "You've done well for yourself, Jane."

She was confused by his comment, then realized his misunderstanding. "This isn't my place," she laughed. "It's Maura's."

He seemed to give this some thought before replying with a smirk, "I think my original comment still stands."

"It's not like that," she quickly corrected him, glad he couldn't see her blush. "We're just friends."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I have a key and a personal alarm code to my friend's house. You can smell my cologne in every corner, too." He expected a rebuttal, but when none came, he apologized. "Sorry, Jane. It's been almost 20 years. I shouldn't assume to know you."

She reached across the granite island and touched his hand. "Oh, I think you know me. It's just," she stammered, "...complicated."

He nodded his understanding. "Okay." Replaying her words, he said. "Wait, your mother lives in the guest house?"

Ignoring his question, she asked, "How about you? I mean..."

He grinned at her diversion, but decided to let her off the hook. "Do I have someone who would house a complete stranger just because I asked?" He pursed his lips. "Nah, I don't think so."

"You're not a complete stranger to her, and she was the one who offered."

"Aw, she's sweet."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Why do I think we've come back around to me again?" They shared a laugh and she asked, "Why Oakland?"

"My mom's sister, Alice, lived there."

"Right!" she said, remembering his family history. "I met her once at some family get together you had."

"The dog ate the potato salad and Colin nearly set the back yard on fire trying to start the grill."

She covered her eyes. "Oh my God, I remember that. And your little cousin...what's his name?- Carl?"

"Ciaran."

"Ciaran. He got a hold of a rake and punctured the kiddie pool. You dragged me over and said it would be the safest place if the yard caught on fire. We were what? Eleven?"

"Yeah, something like that," he smiled.

"So you went to live with your aunt." He nodded and she grabbed his hands. "I knew things were bad for you at home, Danny. You'd come to school with bruises on your arms, or a busted lip, and I knew. I wish I had done something."

"What could you have done, Jane? We were kids and nobody wanted to talk about it back then. By the time we were old enough to do something about it, well, I did something about it."

"And your mom just let you leave?"

He shrugged. "She couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"She still in Boston?"

"As far as I know, yeah."

"As far as you know?"

He shrugged again. "I haven't seen her, pardon the pun, since I left at 16."

Jane shook her head, surprised. "So she doesn't know anything about... this?"

"You mean my blindness? Not that I know of. If she does, she's never made any effort to tell me. Aunt Alice died about five years ago and not a fucking word from my mother. You'd think her only sister dying would have gotten something out of her."

"I kinda see why you stayed in Oakland."

"I love Boston," he admitted. "It's some of the memories I can't live with."

The corner of her mouth twitched in understanding. "Yeah, I can see that. We have some good ones though, don't we?"

Squeezing her hands, he smiled. "Some great ones." They were comfortably quiet for a moment before Daniel said, "Seems like you're making some good ones with Dr. Maura."

"Oh God, not again," she said as she snatched her hands away. Her laugh betrayed her mock anger. "I've got work to do." The seriousness crept back into her voice. "I'll come back as soon as I can. It's almost 1 now, so I'll try to be back around 6; maybe Korsak will let me sneak out early. To the surprise of no one, Maura is extremely prompt, so unless something comes up, she'll be home before 5:30." She turned and opened the fridge, digging out a couple of containers and placing them on the counter. "Ma's lasagne is in the deep dish. My leftover pizza is on the plate. Glasses are above the sink. Cutlery-"

"Jane," he interrupted. "Go. I'll figure it out. Really, I'm fine."

She walked around the island and stood in front of him. He turned in his seat to face her. "Sorry. I just..."

"You don't know what to do with a blind guy. I get it," he said with a smile. "You're doing great. But really, all I need to know is, does Dr. Maura have ESPN?"

The tension dissolved with his words and her laugh. "Yeah, of course she does. She got it for me when-" she heard the words come out of her mouth and saw his lips twitch in amusement. "Anyway, let me walk you into the living room and grab the remote." When the task was complete, she asked, "You sure you're gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "It's a pretty straightforward layout and I'll probably pass out on the couch before the 7th inning anyway."

"Okay. You got your phone on you?" When he pulled it out of his front pocket, she reached for it. "Give it to me." After a few seconds, she touched his hand with it. "I've put my number into your phone. Call if you need anything."

"Go, Jane."

"All right, all right. I mean it. Call." She was halfway out the door before remembering one final important thing. Popping her head back into the house, she said, "And watch out for the tortoise!"

...

"Everything okay with your friend?" Korsak asked when Jane walked into the bullpen.

"Yeah, we got him holed up at Maura's. The Sox play an afternoon game and there's leftover lasagne. I'm not worried."

Frost smiled from behind his monitor. "Sounds like an afternoon I'd love to have," he said wistfully.

"Yeah, well, here we are. Were you able to track down the cook?"

Her partner shook his head. "No. I wonder if he saw more than he admitted and booked it out of town?"

"Keep an eye on his electronic trail. Maybe we can pick him up somewhere." Turning to Korsak, she asked, "What did you have to show me?" The older man stood and tilted his chin towards the evidence board. Jane turned her head and whistled at the amount of information. "Holy crap, Korsak."

Pinned at the very top of the board was a photo of one of their three victims. Under it was a name - Thomas McDonough. From him, photos of the other two victims branched out - John Flynn and Liam Byrne. From them was a long list of dates and offences. Korsak stepped forward and began to explain the pyramid.

"Thomas McDonough, right hand man to Quinlan Searcey. John 'Flint' Flynn and Liam 'The Butcher' Byrne. Both enforcers for Tommy McDonough."

"I need a good nickname," Jane commented. "How about 'Jane "The Wrench" Rizzoli'?"

Korsak made a face. "That doesn't start with an 'R'."

"No, but it sounds like it, Merriam-Webster," Jane replied.

"Don't be hatin'," Frost told him. "You could be Vince 'The Crumpet' Korsak."

"Ha ha, very funny," he told the laughing detectives. "What is it with you two and the alphabet? Crumpet doesn't even start with 'K'."

Between snorts, Jane said, "That's the first thing you find wrong?"

"Do you want to hear the rest of what I found out about these guys or not?"

She covered her mouth with a hand and forced a serious look on her face. "Please, continue."

"Crumpet," Frost whispered under his breath.

Korsak either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him. "Quinlan Searcey is head of one of the largest Irish mob families in New York City. Our three victims are directly tied to him. The question is why were they in Boston and who knew about it?"

Jane pulled her chair over and dropped into the seat. "It's gotta be connected to Paddy Doyle, right? I mean, with Doyle in prison, someone's thinking it's time to make a move into his territory."

Frost picked up her train of thought. "Doyle's trying to run things from prison, but maybe there's some conflict there, a power struggle between Doyle's men."

"Searcey thinks there's a weakness and decides to muscle in," Jane finished.

"That's ballsy," Korsak said. "Doyle's been doing this a long time. He's not going to leave things up in the air. He's going to make damn sure contigency plans were in place before he got sent to prison."

Tapping a pen against her lips, Jane said, "The question is, who killed them? Was it someone from Doyle's side who caught wind of a possible takeover? Or was it someone from Bill Akins family?"

"Who's Bill Akins?" Frost asked.

"Doyle's direct rival for control of Southie," Korsak told the younger man. "You can bet he's smelling blood in the water with Paddy Doyle behind bars."

"So it's either Doyle's family sending a message, or the Akins family doing the same thing," Frost hypothesized.

"Either way," Jane said, "we've got four people dead. I'm gonna head down to the morgue and see if Maura's got anything on the waitress. Frost, keep trying that cook. I gotta bad feeling."

"Me and Frost'll go through the tapes from the camera outside the restaurant. The convenience store across the street has one, too. Maybe we'll get lucky and get a face. In the meantime, I suggest you do what you need to do here, then get over to Maura's. Can't afford to lose what might be our only help with this case."

She tapped her phone on her hip and nodded her thanks. "Let me know if you find anything."

...

Maura was closing the Y incision when Jane arrived at the autopsy room. The detective took a moment to watch her through the half-closed blinds. While she appreciated how the woman could make anything look runway ready, there was something very unguarded about seeing her clad in simple black scrubs. Maura looked up, met her gaze and smiled.

_'You've done well for yourself, Jane.' _Daniel's words came back to her and again she felt the flush rise to her face. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

"No surprises," Maura began. "Cause of death is a gunshot wound to the parietal lobe, though she most likely would have bled out due to the bullet in her kidney. They were all of the .38 caliber family, but we won't know if the striations match the three other murders until the results come back from ballistics."

Jane sighed. "I'd be surprised if they matched. Those guns are a dime a dozen. And if they do match, we'll never find it. It'll be tossed into the river once the job is done."

"The job being, get rid of the witnesses."

"Yeah. Listen, Korsak's let me leave early, so I'm heading back to your house."

"How is Daniel?" Maura asked.

"Enjoying the comforts of Ma's lasagne and your ESPN, I'm guessing."

"I've just got to file the paperwork, but I can be ready to leave in 15 minutes if you'd like me to come with you."

"That'd be great," Jane replied. When the blonde smiled and made her way towards the office, she took a moment to appreciate the vision in black walking away.

...


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Please be assured that Daniel is exactly as he is being written- a nice guy who's known Jane since they were kids. Circumstance and life saw them go their separate ways when they were 16, but it's my intent to establish that, despite not seeing each other for over 20 years, they have at least a decade of childhood friendship between them. I don't do "gotcha!" stories and don't write characters who aren't who they appear to be. As an aside, this won't mean anything to anyone other than Caitlin, but the first paragraph makes me think of you. LOL!  
...

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

...

With Jane sent on a mission to pick up dinner, Maura was the first to arrive home. Stepping through the doorway, she quietly but firmly called out, "It's just me, Daniel." As an afterthought, she added, "Maura."

A laugh came from the living room. "I would have known had you stepped into the room, Eucalyptus and Spearmint."

She chuckled as she hung up her coat and slipped off her shoes. Coming around the corner, she smiled at the sight of Daniel half-prone on the couch, his fingertips gently grazing the hard shell of her tortoise. "You and Bass seem to have hit it off."

He sat up from the couch and tilted his head in the reptile's direction. "Bass? He wouldn't tell me his name." Reaching down, he gave a soft stroke along the carapace. "Jane warned me about him, but we seem to have struck a deal: he won't get under my feet and I won't eat his special lettuce." He looked towards Maura. "At least, I'm assuming that lettuce was for him."

"Yes," Maura answered. "It's apollo lettuce. How did you know?"

"Has a different texture than iceberg or romaine. Didn't know what it was called. I'll file that away." He tapped his forehead.

She sat on the arm of a nearby chair. "Can you really distinguish between scents that well? Considering the amount of traffic I seem to have going through these doors, I would have thought you'd have a hard time separating them."

"There are a lot of smells in this house," he agreed with a smile. "But the three distinct ones are eucalyptus and spearmint, some Estee Lauder fragrance, and a very lingering hint of lavender." He added the last one with a wink. "I'm assuming the Estee Lauder is Mrs. Rizzoli?"

"Yes," she said. "She lives in the guest house."

"Jane told me. She didn't tell me the circumstances, but whatever the reason, it was nice of you to do that for her."

She waved away the compliment, not wanting to admit one of the reasons she had made the offer was to give Jane a reason to come over more often. "She's a wonderful woman and deserved a refuge from what she was going through." She saw him raise his eyebrows and was unsure how to answer. "I'd rather not be the one to pass along personal information, but I will tell you that Angela and Frank are recently divorced."

"Ah, okay," Daniel replied. "I appreciate the head's up. I would've asked about Mr. Rizzoli straight away. Explains why Jane hasn't brought up her dad."

"It's... a sensitive subject for her," Maura agreed.

He raised his nose and sniffed the air. "Speaking of Jane, she not with you?"

Maura stood up and walked into the kitchen. "I was told you may have eaten the lasagne, so I asked her to pick up something along the way."

He patted his stomach. "Guilty as charged." He stood up and carefully joined her at the granite island. "How was your day, Dr. Maura?"

She smiled at the moniker. "I find my job quite fulfilling, though I admit today was frustrating. We were looking for something concrete in the death of the waitress, but it looks like we'll get nothing more than the type of bullet used to kill her. And because it's nothing unique, it looks like it may be another dead end." She paused. "Pardon the pun." Reaching up for a wine glass, she asked, "Would you like some wine? I do have beer in the refrigerator."

"MGD?"

"Oh, I got Jane off that ages ago." The words were out of her mouth before she caught the context. Realizing there was no sense hiding it, she explained, "Well, if you must drink beer, at least make it worth your time."

His laugh was loud and long. "Oh, Dr. Maura, I see why she likes you!" When his laughter eased into a soft chuckle, he said, "I'll have wine, thank you."

Pleased at his choice, she sat down two glasses and poured four ounces in each. She watched with approval as he lifted the glass and gently swirled the contents before taking a measured sip.

"Mmmm, that's very good," he said.

She was curious about his sense of taste. "Do you know what it is?"

He frowned. "Sorry to disappoint. My palate isn't that finely tuned. I know it's red."

"Correct." She waited to see if he offered more.

He seemed to sense her interest, because he sniffed the wine. "Black cherry. Makes my mouth water." She laughed. "Hmmm. Pinot Noir?"

"Yes!" she answered with glee. "Well done!"

Shaking his head, he admitted, "I guessed. Sorry."

"Considering the amount of choices you had, I'd say your guess was almost as good as knowing." She took a sip of her own wine.

A quietness settled between them. "You know, you can ask me anything you want," he said, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of putting you on the spot," she quickly replied. "I mean, unless you're sure."

A smile broke out across his face. "I can almost hear the hamster's little legs running around in your brain. Please. Ask."

"Well," she began, not knowing exactly where to begin. "Is there something you can't do anymore that you miss?"

"I could make you a list!" he replied. He glanced off to the side and clearly gave the question some thought. "One thing? I think I really miss looking into someone's eyes. Voices only tell me something if the person is speaking. I miss that silent connection you make with someone just by looking into their eyes. " He lifted his head and looked right at her. "What colour are your eyes, Dr. Maura?"

She'd never given much thought to the privilege of seeing someone's eyes. So many social cues and truths were derived from the face, and not for the first time, she wondered if she could manage the loss of her sight as well as Daniel seemed to do. Answering his question, she said, "Due to the amount of melanin in the iris' anterior border layer, I would say my eyes are hazel." He sat back and smiled. "Do you still have memories of colour?"

"Some," he said, "but usually in a larger sense. So I might struggle to visualize a red apple, but I can imagine the colour red, no problem."

"Do you have voice-recognition programs to help you in your home?"

His eyes widened and he realized how little time he'd had with anyone to discuss anything other than old memories and his involvement with their case. "Wow, I just figured out how quickly things happened between the shooting and right now. Can you get me my tablet? It's on the coffee table in your living room."

"Of course." She walked to the couch and retrieved the tablet. Placing it beside his hand, she sat down beside him.

With a swipe of his finger, the device turned on and a soft voice intoned, "Device is on." He turned the screen so Maura could see. "It's a simple VoiceOver program that lets me access files and apps by the sound of, well obviously, my voice. I've worked with the company that created the program and with it, my company, Aelish, has developed over 100 apps to help the visually impaired. Cooking, banking, maps, you name it. We've even worked with a clothing company that stitches a QR code into the neck so your phone can tell you what colour it is."

"That's incredible," she said. "I had no idea."

He smiled with pride. "Of course, the games seem to make us the most money. Do you play chess?"

"I do!" she grinned.

"Well, then," he replied and leaned into the tablet, "Open chess app."

...

"You're very good!" Maura praised when the computer announced, "Checkmate".

Daniel sat back and linked his fingers behind his head. With a smile, he said, "Well, you are playing against St. Dominic's reigning third grade chess champion of 1984. And, the runner-up for five consecutive years thereafter."

"Who was the champion?"

"Who do you think?"

She laughed and rested her forearms on the counter. "I've never played against Jane. I've asked, but she's always found an excuse to get out of it." She looked down at the tablet screen. "I worry it's because she's very competitive and doesn't want to lose."

He punctuated the air with a loud, "Ha!" Leaning forward, he said, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Dr. Maura, but it's more likely she would feel bad letting you win."

"Letting me win?" Maura repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"Let me tell you something about Jane. After I beat her in the chess final, she spent the entire summer reading about chess. Every book she could get her hands on. We're talking about a time before the internet. She was at the library every day. I couldn't get her to do anything else. 'Too busy,' she'd say." He smiled at the memory. "Yeah, too busy teaching Tommy how to play just so she'd have someone to play against. The entire summer, poring over these books. I mean, she was reading Silman and Pachman and Kmoch! She was 9 years old!"

"That's how Tommy learned," she realized. "I've played against Tommy."

Daniel pursed his lips. "Does he still open with the Queen's Gambit?"

"Yes," she replied with a laugh. "How did you know?"

"It's the move Jane always used." He splayed his hands out on either side of his head. "At age 9, it blew my mind!"

"You were good friends."

"The best," he replied wistfully.

"Then you moved away." When he didn't immediately reply, she shook her head. "I'm sorry. Jane mentioned... your situation in passing and-"

He reached over until he touched her arm. "It's okay. Really. You know about my stepfather."

"The asshole," Maura blithely answered.

Chuckling, he said, "Yes, the asshole. My father left us when I was too young to remember. I think Colin came in pretty quick after that. I was...maybe, three? As I got older, I learned my mother couldn't be alone. At least, that's the excuse I gave her for putting up with all the shit he did to her."

She treaded lightly. "And you."

"Yes," he admitted, "and to me."

Covering his hand, she said, "That's why you left Boston."

He nodded. "I had an aunt in Oakland. I told Jane my mother didn't care enough to stop me, but the reality is, she probably had no idea she could, considering I was only 16." He paused at the memory. "Anyway, I had that going on and Jane, well, she had other things going on. The days of us being wide-eyed nine year olds were over and suddenly we were young adults going in different directions."

A thought occurred to her. "It hurt you."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I get it now - it's so much easier when you're an adult to see things as they were. But at the time? Yeah, it was hard to come to those crossroads and watch my best friend going in the opposite direction. Please don't tell her I said that - she carries enough Italian Catholic guilt around as it is."

The newfound friends smiled at the truth. Curious, she tentatively asked, "Were you two ever... I mean, were you interested?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "God, no! I was just happy to be around her, I never thought of anything more, and she wasn't interested in boys that way. When she finally thought she was, well, I couldn't compete with Casey Jones."

She frowned at his odd phrasing. "I'm not sure I understand." Though she knew it to be otherwise, it seemed like he was looking right at her.

"Don't you?" Before the silence became awkward, he tilted his head in the direction of what he remembered to be the guest house. "Jane told me you offered Mrs. Rizzoli the in-law suite."

His humour and wink lifted the mood. It was a change of subject and yet it wasn't, and Maura marvelled at how easily they came to an unspoken realization about her relationship with Jane: he knew and she felt surprisingly comfortable about that.

"It's complicated," she said. Realizing it sounded like she was referring to Jane, she amended, "Angela, I mean."

"Of course," he nodded with a smirk. "Jane didn't say much; did something happen to Mr. Rizzoli?"

"Frank filed for divorce."

His face fell. "Shit."

"It's been incredibly hard on the entire family."

"None moreso than Jane," he guessed. "She idolized him."

"It seems to have hit her particularly hard, yes," Maura admitted.

"I went over to the house one weekend. I must have been 11 or 12. There's Jane and her dad, both under the sink. He'd call out for a wrench or vice grips and she'd dig into the pockets of these blue pants and hand it to him, like she was racing herself to see how fast she could pick the right tool. I was sitting at the kitchen table, playing Tetris or something on her GameBoy." He pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh. "I look over and she is so adamant about being just like her old man, she's got plumber's crack." The laugh seeped out the corners of his mouth. "I'd never seen a girl's bum before," he whispered in the sotto voce of a 12 year old. "Mrs. Rizzoli came in, saw her daughter's half-moon, and lost it. 'Jane Clementine Rizzoli, you get upstairs and put on some proper pants!'"

Maura rested her forehead on their clasped hands and shook with laughter. Just when she thought she had collected herself, the image of Angela's horrified face would appear and she would start laughing all over again.

"'Ma,'" he said in a husky voice, "'not the middle name with Danny here!'"

His impersonation did nothing to help Maura regain control. With a hand over her mouth, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Stop, stop!"

He reached up and touched his bandaged shoulder. "Ow!" he said between bouts of laughter. "And in the interest of full disclosure," he said, somewhat composing himself at last, "my middle name is 'Jarlath'."

She took a deep, shaking breath and exhaled, her mirth finally subsiding. "It's very Irish. Named after St. Jarlath, a very pious and wise man. And I'll return the favour - my middle name is 'Dorthea'."

"Well, that's not fair," he complained. "That's a pretty name."

She bowed her head at the compliment. "Thank you." Thinking of all he had told her and all she had learned of him, she said, "I wish I would have known you both."

"Funny how you ended up knowing us both anyway," he smiled. "Though clearly you know Jane much better than you know me."

She rested her chin in her hand. "You're incorrigible."

...


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Google translation for Daniel is, "You look even more beautiful than I remember." Jane's translation is, "There isn't enough wine to make me forget."

...

**CHAPTER NINE**

**...**

"Maura, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave your front door unlocked?" Jane entered the house and kicked the door shut behind her. "Who knows what kind of crazies could just walk in?"

"Is that irony?" Maura wondered aloud and began setting out plates.

"Ha, ha."

Daniel raised his nose into the air. "Tell me that's Gino's Pizza."

"It's Gino's Pizza," Jane said. "Sorry it took me so long; the line was from here to Fenway, I swear."

"It's Gino's, of course it was," he said. He felt her place the box next to his arm. "Animal?"

"Hell yeah," Jane said with glee. She opened the top with a flourish and waved the smell in his direction.

His eyebrows lowered. "Smells like an awful lot of mushrooms there."

Shifting from foot to foot and avoiding Maura's not-so-innocent look, Jane mumbled, "Half is mushroom."

"Sorry?" he said, raising his hand to his ear. "I must be going deaf as well as blind."

"Half is mushroom," she repeated louder, ignoring his laugh. She slapped his arm. "Asshole."

"Language, Jane," Maura reprimanded.

"Yeah, Jane," Daniel said, "Language."

The plates set and the glasses filled, the two women sat with Daniel. Shaking her head, Maura judged the pizza with a sigh. "For the record, this 'Animal' thing makes me worry about your arteries. Both of you."

"What's to worry about?" Jane asked around a mouthful of food. "It's only every item on the menu."

"Minus anchovies," Daniel added.

She nodded. "Minus anchovies."

"Besides, I'm having wine," he said. "A glass of Pinot Noir is only 83 calories."

"Oh, good call! I'm gonna remember that next time."

"You can't balance a diet that way," Maura informed them, pretending not to see the good-natured jostling between the two.

"Who won the game?" Jane asked.

He took another bite. "I dunno. Dr. Maura came home before it was over and lured me into a game of chess."

"You still open with the Ruy Lopez?

"Hmph," Daniel grumbled. "I actually use the Sicilian Defense now, thank you very much. Did you teach Tommy anything other than the Queen's Gambit?"

"I'm sticking my tongue out at you, just in case you can't see it," Jane informed him. "And he couldn't wrap his head around the Nimzo-Indian Defense anyway."

Daniel whistled. "Is that what you're using these days? Ballsy and aggressive. That's new."

"I can't imagine Jane any other way," Maura commented.

The beer bottle stopped halfway to Jane's lips. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should."

The back door opened and a voice called out, "Girls?"

Jane finished her drink and said, "What did I tell you about the crazies?"

Angela Rizzoli stepped around the corner. "I heard you two left-" She stopped abruptly when she saw the man sitting at the island. Fingers fluttered to her lips. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "Is that you, Daniel?"

"Mrs. Rizzoli," he said with a broad grin. The words were barely out of his mouth before he was enveloped in a huge hug. "Oof!"

"Ma! He's got a shoulder injury, jeez!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She pulled back and patted his shoulders. "Where?" The bandage peeked out the neck of his T-shirt. "You poor thing. What happened?" She cradled his face with her hands. "It's so good to see you!"

"Tu guarda ancora più bello di quanto mi ricordo."

"Oh God, she's gonna swoon," Jane moaned.

The older woman took the time to turn away from Daniel to chastize her daughter. "It wouldn't hurt you to learn Italian like I wanted. It's your heritage, in case you've forgotten."

"Non c'e abbastanza vino per farmi dimenticare," Jane retorted. "And you don't want to know what else Nonna Rosa taught me during those godawful family reunions."

"Jane!" Angela gasped as Daniel and Maura tried to cover their reactions.

"And just so you know, Ma, Daniel has an eye condition that makes it hard for him to see. So you might want to take his compliment with a grain of salt."

She turned back to face Daniel. "Is that true? Oh, my poor boy."

He let her kiss his face until Jane pulled her away. "Ma. Just... he's fine."

Angela kissed him once more, almost out of spite. "What are you doing here?" she asked him. "It's been years!"

"I know," he replied. "I came for a friend's funeral. Ended up getting shot at Sam's."

"What?" the older woman asked.

"It's the case we're working on, Ma. Three homicides at Sam's. Danny just happened to be there."

"Oh my God, that's terrible."

"He's staying here until Jane finds out more information," Maura supplied as she started to clear the table. "And I get to hear all about Jane's childhood."

"Oh," Angela said and sat down. "There's some cannoli in the fridge, Maura. Jane, make some coffee."

Jane let her head fall back. "Here we go," she groaned.

"Remember this one, Mrs. Rizzoli? 'Jane Clementine Rizzoli, you get upstairs and put on some proper pants!'"

"Her plumber's crack! I was mortified."

Jane glowered at the pair. "Whatever, Jarlath."

...

"You know, you probably could've gotten Ma to do that," Jane commented as she watched Maura change Daniel's bandages. "She was practically falling all over you."

Maura tutted. "I thought it was very sweet." She smoothed down the edges of the adhesive tape and sat back to admire her handiwork. "There. That should do until morning." Carefully helping him with his T-shirt, she noted, "You have a very aesthetically pleasing Pectoralis Major."

His eyebrows rose. "That might be the sexiest thing anyone's ever told me."

Jane opened the guest room door. "All right, all right, you've done your job, Florence Nightingale. The patient has to get some sleep."

"I take that as a compliment. Florence Nightingale is a celebrated English social reformer and statistician, and the founder of modern nursing. Though her achievements in the Crimean War may have been exaggerated, most historians-"

"Out."

"And you know I've always admired your Trapezius, Jane," she said as the door closed behind her.

Jane opened it quickly. "Out," she repeated and closed it again. Looking at Daniel, she slapped his leg. "Move over, Major Pectoralass," she said and flopped beside him.

"I gotta admit, your Trapezius is all kinds of sexy."

"You have no idea what a Trapezius is, do you?"

"Isn't it one of those things you see at the circus?" He winked.

"Yeah, I have a sexy trapeze."

The two friends laughed. "So, the two of us in bed together, just like old times."

Her eyes widened. "Pardon? Ma let you sleep on the floor until you were ten. Then she made you sleep in Tommy and Frankie's room."

He placed his hand over his heart and sighed dramatically. "You wound me. The pink canopy bed? We were ten?"

She wracked her brain for the memory, then snickered. "We built a fort with all the spare towels," she recalled.

"Completely disregarding safety, we stood on the mattress and I lifted you up so you could safety pin the ends to the top of the canopy."

Nodding as it all came back to her, she added, "Except I could only find about five pins in the whole house."

"So you ended up stapling the rest. Your mother lost it when she found out."

"She shouldn't have bought it for me in the first place. I hated that bed." Looking sideways, she said, "I still don't remember us sleeping together."

"It was that afternoon," he replied. "We spent the day running through the sprinkers your dad set up. We came inside, had lunch and threw the towels on top of the canopy to dry. That's how we came up with the idea for the fort. "

"And then we fell asleep," she finished, finally remembering.

"Yep. It was also about 90 degrees in the fort, so we probably passed out from some kind of heat exhaustion."

"Those were good times," she said wistfully. "I mean, besides the heat exhaustion, the shit we got into when Ma found out, and that godawful bed."

He laughed and they were silent for a while. Quietly, he said, "I heard about your dad."

"Dr. Maura tell you?" He opened his mouth to cover for his new friend, but Jane waved it off. "It's okay. Yeah, Pop left last year. Filed for divorce. Moved to Florida. The end."

Daniel reached over until he touched Jane's hand. Lacing their fingers together, he said, "I never had a dad like that so what do I know? But I know how you felt about him, and I'm sorry." She shrugged and he tightened his grip on her hand. Figuring a change of subject was in order, he said, "So tell me about Dr. Maura."

"We are _so_ not going there."

"What? I just want to know what she's like," he said. "What does she look like? I mean, I have a fuzzy idea, but help a guy out."

"Really?!" When it didn't appear as if he was going to change his mind, she muttered, "Fine. But if this gets out, don't forget I can make your death look like an accident." She looked down at their hands, though it was Maura at the forefront of her mind. "About 5'5", though I swear sometimes she's 6 feet tall in those damn heels." The two shared a laugh. "Light brown blondish hair," she continued, gesturing with her free hand. "Hazel eyes. Freckles, though she tries to hide them. And a smile that just..." She was at a loss for words, a smile of her own tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Do you remember Cynthia McMurphy?"

"Oooh, Cynthia McMermaid?"

She leaned back against the head board and a throaty chuckle escaped. "Yeah. Cynthia McMermaid. Like that but..." she let go of his hand to bring both of hers in front of her chest.

"Did you just do this?" he asked, curling his hands out as if holding two small balls. He didn't wait for her reply. "Ha!"

"Remember what I said - not a word."

He mimed zipping his lips shut. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Yeah," she snorted, "for at least 20 years. Then you'll blab it at some reunion," she mimicked in a flat Bostonian accent, "'did I tell you about the time Jane compared you to Cynthia McMermaid?'"

"Ah, by that time, you two will be in your 60's. I'll be telling the story with my hands down here," he lowered his hands to his waist.

She slapped his chest. "Pig." Standing, she made her way to the door. "Get some sleep. Hopefully we'll have more to go on tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll stay here and make sure nothing happens."

"Oh, does Dr. Maura have two guest rooms or will you be sleeping on the couch?" he asked facetiously.

"Jackass," she muttered with a grin as she left the room.

...


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Daniel was savouring his morning coffee when familiar footsteps thumped down the stairs. Without a word and barely an open eye, Jane half sleep-walked her way to the cupboard, where she pulled out a mug and a container of instant coffee. She tossed her phone onto the counter and had the kettle nearly to a boil when she seemed to realize she wasn't alone.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

He sipped his cup. "About an hour."

She motioned to the espresso machine with a tilt of her chin. "Did it take you that long to figure out the beast?" Hearing the words, she said with surprise, "How _did_ you figure it out? I mean, I can see and I can't make the damn thing work."

Holding up his phone, he pointed it at the machine and took a photo. A voice spoke from the phone. _"La Pavoni Stradivari espresso machine. Would you like to continue?"_

"Yes," he told the device. "How do I make a cup of espresso?"

_"Step 1. Choose the correct filter and put it into the filter holder. The filter holder feels like a small cup with a long straight handle. Step 2. Fill the filter with ground coffee. Step 3. Press the coffee using the coffee press. It is a short cylinder with a flat disc on each end."_

"Stop," he instructed. Turning to Jane, he said, "I don't actually need all that description, but, easy as pie."

"Holy crap," she said and moved closer.

"We never talked about what I do for a living. This is kinda it - voice over apps for the blind."

She nudged him with her shoulder. "That is very cool, Danny."

"So easy, even a blind man can do it," he smirked.

"And yet it still baffles a sighted woman," Maura said as she descended the stairs.

"Ha ha, very funny," Jane panned. "I'm pretty sure that machine has it in for me. I'd bet money on it."

"Well, far be it from me to get involved in Jane Rizzoli's Eternal Struggle with the Espresso Machine, so would you like a cup, Dr. Maura?" he asked the blonde.

"Yes, please," she replied as she sat on a stool. "How's your shoulder?"

He shrugged. "I think it's okay. A bit sore, but I'm guessing that's to be expected."

Nodding, she said, "I'll take a look at it later."

Jane grumbled into her instant coffee when she saw Daniel begin Maura's espresso. She was about to voice her objection when her phone buzzed. Reaching back for it, she brought it to her ear and growled, "Rizzoli." It didn't take long for everyone to realize the caller was bearing bad news. "When?" she asked. There was a stretch of silence on her end as the information was relayed to her. "Okay." Pause. "Yeah, we're at Maura's, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see what the plan is. Did Korsak ever get anything from the camera across the street?" More silence followed. "Doesn't seem like there's much to do. Call me if Pike comes up with anything useful. If not, we'll get Maura to go over the autopsy on Monday."

She hung up and rubbed her face with her hands. "It's too early for this shit," she declared to no one in particular. Dropping her hands, she saw the expectant faces of her friends looking back. "The cook showed up this morning," she began with a sigh. Before Maura could interject, Jane held up a hand. "In the Boston harbour."

Maura blinked. "What?"

"That was Frost. Our cook, Mike Blake, was discovered face down by the Harbour Unit earlier this morning."

"Did you know Boston only averages approximately 9 drownings a year? Those are quite low odds when you factor in the population and the proximity to water."

"Thanks for the info, Harbourmaster," Jane quipped. "What are the odds he got some help getting into the water?"

Daniel hummed. "You think someone put him there?"

"Well, when you figure he and Valerie Kincaid both died within a day of each other, after witnessing a mob murder? I don't think it," Jane replied with conviction, "I know it."

"Wait," Danny said. "Who's Valerie Kincaid?"

"The waitress who was working the shift that night. The one we found in her apartment yesterday."

He frowned. "Are you sure?"

Jane's laugh was hollow. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure we found her in her apartment yesterday."

"No," he said, "I mean, are you sure she was the waitress that night?"

The two women leaned forward. "Why?" Jane asked.

"Because she introduced herself as 'Katy'," he told them.

A shot of adrenaline burst through Jane's system. Now it was her turn to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he answered. "She came to my table, and when I told her I was visually impaired, she went out of her way to let me know she'd help. Told me her name was 'Katy', and if I needed anything, I shouldn't hesitate to call for her."

"Oh my God," Jane breathed.

"Do you think she switched shifts with Valerie Kincaid?" Maura asked.

Jane nodded and pushed off the counter. "I think that's exactly what happened. They just didn't bother to mark it on the schedule." She reached for her phone and quickly dialled. "Frost? Meet me at Sam's in 30 minutes. I think we got something." Hanging up, she leaned over and kissed Daniel on the cheek. "You're a lifesaver."

Just as she was about to bolt upstairs, he caught her arm. "Jane, it's Bobby's funeral today."

Hearing his unspoken request, she placed her hand over his and apologized. "I'm sorry, Danny. We just can't take that chance."

A quiet moment was shared between them, then he asked, "Is Frank's Franks still around?"

"Yeah," Jane beamed. "I still go there."

"Despite my objections," Maura chimed in.

Jane waved away the interruption. "Why don't I pick us up some on the way back? They were Bobby's favourites, weren't they?"

"Stunk up the damn chess room every lunch hour," he remembered with a smile.

She patted his arm again and ran upstairs. Within minutes, she was changed, and back in the kitchen. Adjusting her gun and badge, she thought nothing of it when Maura reached over to flatten the collar of her blazer.

"What do you want me to do, Jane?" Maura asked.

"Nothing," she replied. "Stay here with Danny and wait for me to get back. I shouldn't be long. Hopefully we can track this Katy down and put her on police watch until we get a suspect. Chances are, the killer doesn't know he got the wrong woman; he got his info the same way we did. If she's still alive, she may be the only person who can identify him." Performing a final pat job to make sure she had gun, badge, phone and keys, she shook out her hands and opened the door. "And for God's sake, Maura, lock it behind me."

...

The two partners met outside the greasy spoon, where an older man stood waiting. His nose had seen better days, and when he reached out to shake Jane's hand, it was easy to see why. While he might have been the current owner of Sam's, he clearly spent his younger years as a boxer. His hands were beefy and coarse, and she wasn't sure any of his fingers were straight.

Jane made the introductions. "Detective Jane Rizzoli. This is my partner, Detective Barry Frost."

"Jane Rizzoli?" the man repeated. "Shit! I remember you and your little chess club back in the day. Johnny," he told her, pointing to his chest. "Johnny Traoni."

"Oh my God," she said with a smile. "You're Sam's son. You were the dishwasher." She looked at him up and down. "Jesus, I didn't recognize you."

He copied her appraisal. "I could say the same about you. A cop, huh?"

She didn't bother correcting him. "Yeah. So don't be threatening to shove a chess piece up someone's ass."

His laugh was loud and boisterous. "You talkin' about Billy Tucker and his gang. Little shits."

Jane turned to her partner. "Frost, this guy saved me and my friends from a lot of hassle. We'd come here to play chess after school-"

"And have a strawberry milkshake."

"And have a strawberry milkshake," she agreed. "One day, Billy Tucker walks in with his friends and sits with us. We're trying to ignore them but of course, he starts bumping the table, elbowing us, knocking pieces over. So Johnny comes out from the back, towel over his shoulder and says, 'If youse don't fuck off right now, Ima shove a chess piece so far up your ass, your dick will be screamin' 'Check mate' when you take a piss!'"

Johnny shrugged. "They never bothered you after that, did they?"

Jane shook her head. "Not here, anyway."

"I hope those little fuckers were castrated."

Before the trip down memory lane took a turn for the worse, Jane said, "We should probably mention why we're here."

"I'm assumin' it's because of the shootin'."

"Unfortunately, Johnny, there's a bit more to it than that."

He seemed to take the news of the cook's death with a shrug, but was visibly shaken to hear that his waitress was missing.

"Don't get me wrong," the big man said. "Mike was a good guy. But he'd had a life that, well, let's just say, the ending doesn't surprise me. But Katy, she's a good girl. She's tryin' to work her way through community college."

"Has she tried to contact you since Thursday?" Frost asked.

"Nah," he replied. "I didn't even know she switched shifts with Valerie." It was as if the news just hit him. "Oh my God. Valerie." He rubbed his forehead with his thick fingers. "I can't even sort this shit out."

"I understand," Jane said. "A lot's happened in two days."

"You got that right." With a deep sigh, he turned to look at his coffee shop. "Any idea when I can get the place open for business? It's like, the only thing I know right now."

Jane looked around his big frame and saw the yellow police tape still sealing the door shut. "I'll talk to CSRU, see if we can't have the paper work cleared up by the end of the day."

"Thanks, Jane."

Frost stepped forward and used his pocket knife to cut the tape. Johnny slid his key into the lock and opened the door. Chairs were overturned and black fingerprint dust covered almost everything. And, if there was any doubt as to what had happened here, dark red stains remained where the three men had fallen. Jane frowned. It was nothing like the diner in her memories.

Traoni made his way to the back office. "You lookin' for Katy's address? I got it here somewhere." He rifled through a desk drawer and filing system that only he seemed to understand. It didn't take him more than a few seconds to pull out a sheet of paper. "Here's her application. She didn't have much experience when she got here, but Dad saw somethin' in her. She's been here ever since. I hope she's okay." Frost jotted down the information and when he flipped his book closed, he thanked the man for his help. "Any time. Any time," he repeated. "I can't imagine anyone wantin' to hurt her." He tapped a fist into the palm of his hand. Jane had a pretty good idea how he'd react if the waitress had come to any harm.

"We'll do our best to keep her safe, Johnny," she promised.

"You let me know if you need any help in that department," he said.

"I will," she replied as they made their way back to the door. Before leaving, she turned to the older man. "How's your dad holding up with all this going on?"

"Ah, Jane," he smiled apologetically. "He passed about five years ago. He woulda loved to have seen you."

She thought about yet another link to her past being gone. "Me, too, Johnny. Me, too."

...

"He's clean," Frost told her after tapping his iPad a few times. "I mean, besides the odd public disturbance back in the day, he's gone pretty straight."

She'd asked him to run a quick check on Johnny Traoni and was happy the search came up empty. "I hated to ask, but at this point, you can't be too sure."

Frost shook his head. "It's this job, man. You learn not to trust anybody."

"Hey," she objected, "I trust my family, I trust my friends, and I trust Maura."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "I like how you separate Dr. Isles from 'friends'."

Rather than commenting, she pushed the accelerator a bit harder and took the corner sharply. The waitress' address was clear across town, and Jane didn't want to waste a minute. "Have you called the number again?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Still no answer. Can't say I blame her, though. Word about Mike Blake might not be out yet, but The Herald ran an article about Valerie Kincaid. If I saw something that night, I'd go into hiding, too."

"Let's just hope she's not so far into hiding that we can't find her, either. Give the Borough unis a call and have a car sent to her apartment. Tell them to wait 'til we get there.

"I'm on it," he replied, and grabbed his phone.

She hit the brakes and saw the traffic lights for the next five blocks click to red, like a string of dominoes. She cursed the lights, cursed the traffic, and most of all, cursed the possibility that they might be too late.


	11. Chapter 11

...

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

...

When they finally pulled up to the curb, the local uniform officers were already leaning against their car. The older of the pair took off his hat and met Jane halfway to the door.

"Officer Glen Swanson," he introduced himself with a handshake. "Me and my partner have been here for about 10 minutes. Took a little look-see around the building, just to see what could be seen. Didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

"Anyone leave or go in?" Jane asked.

"Nah," he replied. "I mean, besides the 80 year old grandma with the shopping bags. I got Shaw there to help her to her apartment." He thumbed in the direction of his very young partner.

"I feel your pain, brother," Frost said in Shaw's direction.

Jane looked at the building. "Only one way in?"

Swanson shook his head. "Emergency exit in the back."

"Okay. Me and Frost will head up to the apartment. Can I get one of you to stay at the front and one to go around the back?"

"I know, I know," Shaw said before he was told. "I'll get the back."

"Don't sweat it, man," Swanson called out jovially. "You won't be a rookie forever." He turned to Jane and Frost. "I've got the front. Go do what you gotta do."

...

It was an odd sense of deja vu when they entered the building, though maybe it was their training that always made things feel the same. Jane took the lead to the apartment door and when they arrived, Frost quickly positioned himself on the other side. This time, however, Frost's test of the door handle revealed it to be locked. Jane glanced at his phone.

"Call," she mouthed.

Nodding, he pulled out his cell and hit 'Redial'. The detectives waited, and the silence of the seemingly quiet apartment was broken by a poppy ringtone. Despite the tension, Jane rolled her eyes.

"I hate that song," she whispered, then called out, "Katy McMillan, Boston Police. We're not here to harm you. Please open the door." The phone stopped ringing and silence descended once again. "Katy," Jane said, trying a different tactic, "I know you're afraid, but we're here to protect you. I promise." She was starting to wonder whether or not they'd have to break the door down when the handle turned.

The chain was still on, and a frightened face appeared in the small opening. "Who are you?"

Jane holstered her gun and showed her badge. "I'm Detective Jane Rizzoli and this is my partner, Detective Barry Frost." The young man moved so the girl could see him. "We know what happened at Sam's, and we know why you're afraid."

"Valerie..."

Jane nodded. "We know, Katy. Can we come in?"

The door closed and the metal lock slid open. Reluctantly, the waitress opened the door and stepped to the side. "I'm so scared!" she sobbed.

Jane gently took her to the nearest chair and sat her down. Kneeling in front of her, she clasped their hands together and said, "I know, Katy, but you're safe now." Frost found some Kleenex and handed them to the distraught girl who thanked him with a weak smile. "We know what happened at Sam's," Jane repeated her earlier refrain, "but what we don't know is, how do you fit in?"

Katy sniffled and dabbed her eyes. "I was at the coffee station when it happened. I was getting everything ready for the next order. Oh! That blind guy! Is he okay?"

"He's okay," Jane assured her with a squeeze of their hands. "What happened?"

"I was at the coffee station," she started again. "And it was weird, like, my pen rolled off the counter just as the guy came in and started shooting."

"So he didn't see you?" Frost asked.

"No, I don't think so."

"Would explain why he thought it was Valerie Kincaid instead," Jane surmised. "After it was all done, he just went to the back to see the schedule and found out her information."

Katy nodded repeatedly. "Yes! That's exactly what happened. I saw him between the coffee cart and the milkshake machine, and when I realized he was shooting everyone, I climbed under the counter next to the garbage can. I fit because I'm small." This little detail brought the tears back. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Jane soothed. "What happened after the shooting stopped?"

"Like you said," she told her. "I saw him go to the back. I thought he was looking for Mike, but I didn't hear anything. Then I heard all this shuffling, like he was throwing paper around. Then it was quiet until I heard the bells above the door. That's how I knew it was safe to come out."

"How long were you there before you left, Katy?" Jane asked.

"I counted to 20 then got out through the delivery door in the kitchen." She saw Jane tilt her head and explained, "I was worried he'd be waiting outside to see if anyone came out. Besides, I... I didn't really want to see what had happened to those men."

"Mike Blake must've counted to 100, considering he didn't see anything," Frost remarked.

"Oh, Mike! Is he okay?"

Jane squeezed her hands again. "Katy, Mike's dead." The young woman tried to pull her hands away in shock, but Jane held tightly. "This is why it's so important you trust us. We have to get you back to the station to make a statement and set up a safe house for you."

"Safe house?" she repeated.

Frost looked down at the waitress and offered a comforting arm on her shoulder. "Did you see his face, Katy?"

She could only nod.

"Both Mike Blake and Valerie Kincaid are dead because the shooter thought they saw his face," Frost explained. "So far, it looks like he doesn't know he made a mistake about Valerie. We need to keep you safe and stay one step ahead, okay?"

She nodded again. "Okay. What now?"

"We're going to take you to the station and sort out the rest there," Jane said. Standing, she pulled the girl to her feet. "Now, I want you to go and pack a small bag. A change of clothes, something to sleep in, toothbrush, whatever. Nothing too big. Then we'll go."

Frost watched Katy leave the room. "How do you want to play this?"

"Pretty straight forward," she replied. "I'll drop you two off at the station and I want you and Korsak to take her statement. Everything she can remember, from what he was wearing to the colour of his eyes, if she got that close."

"I know the drill."

"I know you know the drill," she said with a hint of apology in her voice. "I'm just worried word's gonna get out that we have her and why."

"You think there's a leak in the department?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"What did I say about the people I trusted, Frost?"

"Damn, girl, you're cold," he smiled.

She shook her head. "I just know from experience how far the reach of a guy like Paddy Doyle is."

"You think this is all him?"

Shrugging, she said, "It's either him or someone from the same cloth. The reason we can never catch these guys is because they've got people who are willing to dole out information for a price. That's why this has got to be contained in the bullpen. I want you to go through Cavanaugh and set up the safe house personally."

"Okay," he nodded. "What are you going to do in the meantime?"

She sighed deeply. "As far as we know, the shooter could still be looking for Danny. He's safe at Maura's for now, but I don't like the idea of leaving them alone until we can do some follow up on what Katy knows."

"So you're going to play bodyguard in a house with ESPN and Dr. Isles, huh? Tough gig."

Before she could fire a fitting retort, Katy walked out of the bedroom. Throwing the backpack over her shoulder, she took a deep breath. "I guess I'm ready."

...

After thanking the officers for their help, they wasted no time in plotting the most direct route to the precinct. Rather than taking their witness through the BPD lobby, Jane parked the car in the underground garage and the trio immediately took the elevator to the homicide floor. Had the situation not been so serious, Jane would have laughed at the sight of Korsak, mouth agape, as Frost explained everything.

As much as it pained her to leave right in the middle of the biggest break in their case, the longer she stayed, the more she worried about Danny. It must have been evident, because Korsak looked down at her wringing hands and glanced at the elevator.

"Go," he ordered. "Me and Frost can take it from here."

She bit her thumbnail. "You'll do the interview yourselves?"

He chuckled. "It's not my first time at the rodeo, Jane," the older man said. "We didn't get much on the camera footage, so I'm bringing in a sketch artist. The mob might think they can buy everyone, but I've still got some deep CIs. We could have an ID by the end of the day. Go."

"Okay," she replied and bounded for the elevator. Stepping in, she turned and had just enough time to say, "Call if anything comes up!" before the doors slid shut.

...

She hadn't intended on doing it, had meant to go right to Maura's. And yet, there she was, parked across the street from St George's Catholic church. She wondered why Bobby Waterston chose St George's and not St. Dominic's, the church of their youth. Where that church was large and looming, St. George's barely seemed the size of a chapel. Her black boots scuffed on the three steps that led to an open iron moulded door. Much to her mother's dismay, it had been ages since Jane had entered a church of her own volition, but she was certain the woman would approve if she saw Jane crossing herself out of habit as she entered the hallowed building. It was oddly quiet and she sat down in the nearest pew.

When she was a child, she would count the number of pews and the number of people in each, because she was genuinely interested in how many were going to Hell and how many she'd see in the afterlife. As she got older, and the biblical demands seemed more exacting, one list got a longer than the other. And now, after everything she had done, she wondered if God would lump her in with the former. With only five other people here, she didn't like her chances.

_Twenty-two pews_, she counted. Two side rows of seven, plus a center row of eight. She wondered if 22 was on purpose. _They do like their numbers. The Canon Wheel_. She smiled as this bit of information came to her. _Three sections of the Bible made up of 22 books each. Genesis to the Song of Solomon. Isaiah to Acts. Romans to Revelation. _She shook her head_. Where did that come from?_

"Did you know the deceased?"

A voice on her left startled her from her reverie. "Sorry?"

A woman who could have been anywhere from 50 to 80 sat beside her. "Bobby Waterston," she said, indicating to the altar. "Did you know him?"

Jane glanced up to the front of the church, seeing it for the first time. Instead of a casket, there was a silver urn and a photo of Bobby. His face was expressionless and his eyes stared blankly at her.

"Yes," she answered. "I mean, in school. I knew him then."

"I'm Edith Maloney," she introduced herself. "I was Bobby's neighbour."

"Jane Rizzoli." The two women were quiet for several moments. "I'm sorry I seem to have missed the service."

The older woman patted Jane on the forearm. "Don't worry, dear. Truth be told, it wasn't much of a service. Father Dunne read a few passages and the organist played 'Amazing Grace'." She looked around the church. "I think there are more people here now than during the service." Jane frowned and the woman patted her arm again. "It's okay, dear. He'd be glad to know you came."

The woman stood and Jane took that as her cue to leave as well. Standing, she extended her hand. "It was lovely meeting you, Mrs. Maloney."

"You too, Jane," she smiled. "God be with you."

As she stepped out into the air and raised her face to the sky, she thought not of redemption or a return of faith. She thought simply of Sam, of 'Roly Poly' Rizzoli, of Bobby Waterston and Billy Tucker and Johnny Traoni. Danny. Maura.

_Maura._

Twenty-two divided by 7 is also the closest approximation to pi that can be calculated. The ratio of circumference to diameter.

_The perfect circle_.

...


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Just one more after this chapter. Those who have read my other fics may recognize some references in this one. While the show might not bother with continuity, I figure there's no harm in creating my own!

...

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

...

The room was quiet; a comfortable blanket of silence enjoyed by the two occupants. The air was still and a scent of tea tree wafted softly through the room. Maura sat peacefully, her legs brought up into a lotus position, her palms resting gently on her knees. Daniel sat beside her, mirroring her pose. Their breaths were controlled and deep, inhaling and exhaling in sync with each other.

Maura suggested the meditation after Jane had left and once the basics had been explained, Daniel gladly accepted. As they made their way up the stairs, Maura had given him a verbal layout of the second floor and led him to the yoga room. They'd been meditating quietly ever since.

"So, you've really gotten Jane to do this?" Daniel asked softly, breaking the silence.

Maura shifted slightly. "Well, perhaps it's taken a bit longer for her to embrace meditation," she admitted, and smiled at his laughter. "But I have gotten her to go to yoga classes - more than one, even - and that only took 14 months. Give me another three and I think she'll realize the benefits of meditation."

"The fact that you have her doing anything like yoga says a lot."

"Has she really changed that much?" Maura wondered.

"No," he shook his head, "not in the way you mean. Aspects of her life might have made her change, but she's the same person."

"I don't understand the difference."

He stretched his arms up high and leaned back on his palms, splaying his legs out. "Describe Jane's qualities to me."

She copied his pose, but crossed her feet at her ankles. "Brave," she answered immediately. "The bravest person I know. Funny. Smart, though she doesn't give herself enough credit."

"Selfless?"

Nodding, she agreed. "Yes. Driven, but not in an ambitious way."

"Her ideals drive her."

"The pursuit of what's right."

"She was all those things when we were kids," Daniel said. "It's just her experiences that have built them. That's what I meant when I said she's changed, but fundamentally, she's still the same."

Maura let this thought settle for a moment. "She doesn't talk much about her childhood."

"I wonder if it's because she forgets she had one." He knew the doctor would ask what he meant, so he continued. "She spent a lot of time being an adult, or at least, a surrogate adult. Don't get me wrong - Mrs. Rizzoli is an amazing woman, and I would have her as my mom in a heartbeat. But I imagine it was tough raising three kids who are only five years apart. So a lot of it fell on Jane." He stopped and chose his words carefully. "Do you know Mr. Rizzoli well?"

Maura hummed, knowing the meaning behind the words. "I know he has a tendency to drink."

He nodded. "So you can imagine that Jane took it upon herself to do a lot of protecting. Not that there was physical abuse," he quickly added, "but I'm sure you know that verbal abuse can be just as damaging."

"Studies have shown that when the verbal abuse is constant, it often creates symptoms that are consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder. Children who are the target of verbal abuse can exhibit a higher rate of physical aggression and delinquency."

"How's Tommy doing these days?"

She knew he meant it rhetorically, but acknowledged his point. "Better, lately. But it's only been a recent improvement."

"She tried, she really did. Covered for him a lot." He shook his head. "Boy, don't I know how that works?" he asked, more to himself than to Maura. "And, of course, you've heard how she tried to protect me, not just by sticking up for me on the playground, but by bringing me home, pulling me into her family, making me feel loved."

"She misses you."

He sighed. "Enough about the old days. I've told you how she was. How is she now? Yoga? Really?"

She laughed and accepted the change of topic. "Yes, yoga. We ran the Massachusetts Marathon together."

"What?"

Warming to her favourite topic, she sat up. "Sergeant Korsak gave her a dog that she pretends to tolerate, but we all know she loves. And now she eats sweet potato fries even though she pretends to hate them."

He smiled at her animation. "Still can't get her to give up the pizza though, huh?"

She smirked. "No. But I do get her to eat kale when I'm not around. Progress!"

His laugh was deep and genuine. "Does she still play the piano? We had piano lessons with Mrs. DiSantini every Sunday after church." He could almost feel the joy fade from the room. "What's happened?"

Maura took a breath and hesitated, uncertain of how much to reveal. "She's had some personal things happen because of her job. She's... she's suffered some injuries to her hands that have made piano playing... difficult."

"Oh, Jane," he whispered. He extended a hand to Maura, as if his touch could reach Jane through her.

She covered his hand with her own. "Can you keep a secret?" He nodded and she confided, "She played for me. Once. So maybe we'll get some progress there, too, one day."

"I suspect if anyone could do it, Dr. Maura, it would be you."

Maura flushed at the suggestion and smiled. Standing, she silently offered to help him up, and they stood side by side. "I know it's early, but I've got some Heady Topper I've been excited to try, and Jane refuses to drink beer out of a can, despite specific instruction from the brewer to do so."

Chuckling, he said, "Who would have thought: Jane Rizzoli, beer snob?"

"I suppose I shouldn't criticize," Maura admitted. "I've been known to be somewhat... particular about my wine."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that between you two last night with the pizza. Wait," he said. "Heady Topper? Do you know how hard it is to get that beer?"

She shrugged, though he couldn't see it. "I know people."

He laced his fingers through hers as they began to make their way out of the room. "Oh, Dr. Maura, do tell!" They had just reached the door when he stopped in his tracks. "Maura, did you lock the door?"

The use of only her first name abruptly brought her to a halt. "Yes," she answered. "I followed Jane out and made a point of locking it behind her."

"Back door, too?"

"Yes," she repeated. "Jane did it before she left." She craned her neck towards the hallway. What he had heard earlier was finally reaching her ears. "Someone's trying to get into the house."

"Where's your phone?"

She frantically looked around. "I left it downstairs. I didn't want anything to disturb the meditation."

Turning, he grasped her by the shoulders. "Is there another way out of the house from this floor? A balcony of any kind?"

"No."

Sensing her growing agitation, he cupped her face. "Okay. So there's only one thing to do - you've got to get out of the house, or at least get downstairs to get some help."

"Yes," she agreed. "How do we go about doing that?"

"We need to separate," he told her. "Let me hide somewhere. He's looking for me, not you. I can distract him while you go downstairs."

"No!" she almost shouted.

"Jane would never forgive me if something happened to you."

"And she'd never forgive me if something happened to you," she replied. "Come on." With a gentle yet firm hand on his elbow, she guided him from the yoga room to her bedroom, and into her large walk-in closet. Pushing aside some hangers on a lower rack, they settled down behind the curtain of skirts.

"Describe this to me, please," he whispered.

"We're in my bedroom," she said. "The closet. We're to the left of the bedroom door, but the closet has an entry at each end. It's..." she wracked her brain, trying to find a calmness in the numbers. "It's about 18 feet long. The bedroom is approximately 20 feet from the top of the stairs, which is t-"

"It's okay, Maura," he said, reaching out for her hand. "I'm scared shitless, too."

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. "Can you hear anything?"

"Beyond my heart clawing its way out of my chest? I think he's just walking around downstairs. I hear doors slamming open."

She brought her fingertips up to her lips. "We need to formulate a plan."

"Do you have a gun?" Daniel asked. "A weapon of any kind?"

"I've never felt the need. Jane's..."

"Jane's always been here to protect you."

"I sound like a damsel in distress," Maura muttered.

"It's how she makes everyone feel," he said with a small smile. "That's her gift."

Maura's eyes widened. "That's it!" she whispered excitedly. "A gift!" Surreptitiously crawling from their hiding spot, she pulled out a drawer and reached in, before scuttling back to Daniel.

"What is it?" he asked. She put the item in his hands. "A baseball bat?"

"Technically, it's an aluminum softball bat," she said. "Detective Frost gave it to me for my birthday."

A sound made them hold their breath. Something crashed to the ground and they both jumped.

"Why does he have to break things?" Maura asked.

"Was that in the yoga room?"

"Yes."

They knew it was only a matter of time before the intruder found them, and that between Daniel's lack of vision and the single weapon, their options were limited. Maura took a deep breath. "I'm going to talk to him."

"What?" he whispered fiercely. "You can't do that, Maura."

"What other choice do we have? We stay here and let him find us, or we get the advantage by showing ourselves first. I'll step out and convince him you're not here. Maybe I can hold him off until Jane gets back."

"What if you can't?"

The answer hung in the air, unspoken.

Though the carpet was thick, it couldn't disguise the intruder's arrival. Maura quietly crawled out of their makeshift hiding spot and stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her yoga pants in a vain attempt to calm her nerves. With her head held high, she stepped into the room.

...

The gunman seemed startled at her appearance, but he quickly regained his swagger. Without preamble or introduction, he said, "Where is he?"

Knowing she couldn't lie, she chose a different route. "That's of no consequence to you," she informed him coldly. She ran her eyes from head to toe and back again, appraising the man who stood before her. She was surprised to discover he was more boy than man; certainly not the image of a cold-blooded killer who had murdered five people. While the scars on his face reflected the life he was living, there was still something soft about him, something youth wasn't ready to relinquish. His hands were steady, but his eyes wavered.

"Since I'm the one with the gun, I think you should worry about the consequences."

She took a step forward. "Do you have any idea who I am?" she asked, chin tilted up. "Do you have any idea who you're threatening? I assure you, if even a single hair on my hair is touched, you'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. That's assuming you'll still be living by the end of the day."

He chuckled and wiped his forehead with the back of his gun hand. "Sweetheart, I know exactly who you are. You're Paddy Doyle's daughter."

"So you know exactly the risks you're taking by just standing here."

"Let me ask you - why do you think I haven't killed you yet?" Maura frowned. "Who do you think sent me?"

Pieces started falling into place. "The mob men from New York. My father wanted to send a message."

"People thought with your old man in the joint that they could just move in and take over. Cockroaches comin' out from under the rocks. Paddy wanted to make sure everyone knew who still ran Southie, even if he was in prison."

"So he got you to take care of the 'problem'."

He shrugged. "I offered and the money was good."

"But you made a mistake by leaving the witnesses, didn't you?"

He wiped his forehead again and shrugged. "There was always going to be collateral damage."

She shook her head at the callousness of the statement. The disregard for human life appalled her. "How did you know to come here?"

Stepping farther into the room, he smirked. "Your old man was pissed when I told him the customer was gonna live. Told me to take care of it. When I couldn't find him, Paddy said I might wanna try your house. He seemed to think your connection to Detective Rizzoli might be the key to findin' this guy. My orders were to eliminate the problem, without harmin' you. So don't worry, Dr. Isles, I've already been warned."

She swallowed and pushed her shoulders back, exuding more confidence than she felt. "Unfortunately, I see two major flaws in your objective."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she corrected. "First, there is no way on Earth I am going to tell you where this man is. Second, if your goal is to eliminate those who have seen you commit a crime, what are you going to do now that I've seen your face? Paddy Doyle warned you away from harming me. Yet I can now identify you. It seems you've put yourself in a bit of a logical quandry."

He stepped closer, his face a mask of menace that tried to cover his worry. "Accidents happen, Dr. Isles."

"Yes, I'm sure that's what the pathologist will conclude when your body turns up."

Gritting his teeth, he held up his gun, not in a motion to shoot, but over his head, as if he was about to use it as a heavy weapon. "Not gonna hap-"

The crack of the aluminum bat against the killer's knee was loud and sickening. The man dropped, clutching his injury. In a second swift strike, the bat came down on the forearms that were protectively cradling the shattered knee. Daniel staggered back and fell against the bed, breathless and shaking.

Careful to avoid the injured man's flailing, Maura picked up the gun before rushing to Daniel's side. "Are you okay?" she asked, uncertain how to proceed.

Adrenaline flooded his veins and he laughed. "When you said you knew people, I just thought you were rich!"

She touched his arm and focused on the task at hand. "I need to find something to keep him incapacitated."

"Based on the moaning coming the floor, I think he's plenty incapacitated."

"Yes," she said to the man at her feet, "please be quiet. I can't think." She ignored Daniel's laugh and looked around the bedroom. "Oh, I wish Jane had left her handcuffs." This got another round of laughter from Daniel, and Maura informed him, "It's just your adrenal medulla secreting epinephrine. Your brain will regulate itself shortly."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize," she said, still looking for a tie of some kind. "You've been through a very traumatic experience. Luckily, it's-"

"Maura!"

"Jane! Jane, we're up here!"

They heard the sound of steps being taken two at a time until the detective's familiar frame stood in the doorway. Pausing to catch her breath, Jane took in the scene: Daniel collapsed on the bed, with a baseball bat by his side; Maura standing in the middle of the room, gun in hand; and some slime ball rocking back and forth on the floor in pain. Reaching for her belt, she grabbed her cuffs and harshly slapped them on the suspect while reciting his Miranda rights. Carefully extracting the gun from Maura's hand, she placed it on the bedside table and took the doctor into her arms. It was only then that Maura started to cry.

"Shhhh, it's okay. It's okay," Jane soothed. "You did great."

"It's just your adrenal medulla secreting epinephrine," Daniel called out from the bed.

Maura pulled back with a smile and wiped her tears. "_You_ did great," she told him."

Jane walked them both to the bed and sat beside Daniel. She pulled out her phone and called in the report, requesting assistance. Clipping the phone back to her belt, she looked around the room again until her eyes fell on the two people beside her. "You both did great."

...


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: And we've come to the end. I know it's a quick wrap-up, but as I said at the beginning, I often use these casefiles as vehicles for character development, and dialogue will always be my first love in writing. Thanks to all those who have left reviews, specifically the guests, who I couldn't PM my thanks. You've all been wonderful and supportive, and took my OC under your wings. Special shout out to my beta reader, happycamper5. I don't tell you enough how much better my writing is because of you.

...

**EPILOGUE**

...

Despite Daniel's protestations, the women insisted on taking him to the hospital. The force of the bat swing had re-opened his gunshot wound, and Maura refused to sign off on the state of the injury. They returned to Maura's in time to meet the locksmith, and were now sitting around the kitchen island.

"What happens next?" Daniel asked, savouring the coffee Maura had slid across the granite.

"Nathan Bryce spent his first 28 years in and out of trouble. Looks like he'll be spending the next 25 in prison," Jane answered. "We'll have Katy McMillan under full police protection until the trial, but chances are, Paddy Doyle's not going to care about this kid now. The message was sent and if the messenger ends up paying the price in the end, why should he care?"

"So you don't think there's any real risk to the waitress or to Daniel?" Maura said.

"No, I don't see it," Jane replied. "But the DA won't want to take chances."

Daniel took another cautious sip. "What about me?"

Jane flashed a smile to Maura when she got a cup of her own. "I talked to the DA - she's okay with you going home, since you live out of state and she's not sure how long it'll take for the case to get pushed through. She'll give you a head's up when it does."

"I'm here until Friday, so she's got time to call me in if she needs anything before I go."

"I took your information at the hospital, but we'll go down to the station on Monday and make an official statement."

"Sounds good," he said.

"What are you going to do in Boston in the meantime?" Maura asked.

He shrugged. "Have some expensive beer. Play some chess. Meditate."

Jane's eyebrow rose. "Meditate?"

"Yeah," he answered with a smile, "you should try it sometime. Very relaxing."

"Uh-huh," she answered, but didn't bother hiding her own grin. "I've got an idea for something even more relaxing."

He tried to reach out for both women before saying, "Oh, Jane, I thought you'd never ask."

Maura frowned. "Ask what?"

Jane good-naturedly snatched her hand away. "Never mind, Maura."

The blonde was silent for a millisecond until the light bulb went on. "Oh!"

"Yeah, 'oh!'," Jane said. "I notice you didn't bother taking your hand away, though."

Maura followed Jane's gaze to the hand that clasped Daniel's. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm adverse to the idea." When she saw Daniel's wide smile and Jane's wide eyes, she said, "What?"

"Anyway," Jane continued, "that tree's still in the back yard of my parents house, Danny."

His eyes lit up. "Oh, wow. Really?"

"Yeah," she beamed. "Wanna see if we can get to the top?"

Maura shook her head as she followed the conversation. "He can't climb with his injury."

Jane waved away her comment. "That tree is the easiest thing in the world to climb. He won't have any problems, am I right, Danny?"

"It was practically a ladder."

"Yes," Maura said, "when you were children. Besides, the house is for sale. Technically, it would be trespassing." She carefully sipped her drink.

"Someone once told me she was the best tree climber in year 6 of her boarding school," Jane told Danny, as if changing the subject.

"Is that so?" Danny replied, playing along.

Jane smirked at the mutual collusion. "Thing is, when the chips are down, sometimes the truth comes out."

Maura was outraged. "You know I can't lie, Jane!"

"Hmmm," Jane pondered. "You're right. That was a long time ago. You probably just lost your mad tree climbing skills."

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Dr. Maura," he joined in. "Happens to the best of us."

"I know what you're doing," she informed them. "However, I'm always up for a challenge. Let me get changed, then, as the kids say these days, 'I'm bringing it on'."

"I think you've mashed two sayings together, Dr. Maura."

She stood tall, ignoring her faux pas. "Yes, well, I'll be back."

The sounds of the blonde's footsteps faded as she climbed the stairs and the two friends were quiet. A deep, shaky breath broke the silence. Daniel tilted his head in Jane's direction.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "It's... it's been a crazy day."

He nodded. "Crazy couple of days."

"Yeah," she agreed and they were quiet again.

Suddenly, he felt her arms around him, gripping him into a tight hug. "Hey!" He wrapped his arms around her waist. "It's okay."

"Thank you for not leaving her," she whispered into his ear.

"Even if I could have, I wouldn't. Would you?" He knew it was a rhetorical question. "But you know, if you want to thank me, I wouldn't be adverse to a kiss," he quipped, using Maura's words. "For old time's sake."

Jane pulled back and composed herself. "For old time's sake?" she repeated. "We never kissed."

"I know," he frowned. "And that's just wrong."

She smiled and rolled her eyes, but surprised him by pressing her lips against his. It was chaste but full of love, the kind born from a lifetime of trust and friendship. He held her firm and smiled beneath her lips.

"I should have asked way sooner. Too bad I'm not your type."

She pulled back and laced her fingers behind his head. "Oh, really? And just what exactly is my type?"

"Eucalyptus and Spearmint," he softly replied.

She was about to deflect his answer when she realized the source of his comment. "Maura," she said as the woman re-entered the room.

"Does this look like proper tree-climbing apparel?" she asked, holding out her arms.

Shifting, Jane moved into the open arms and pulled Maura in closer. The three stood in a tight embrace until Daniel whispered, "Jane, where's your right hand?"

She pulled back sharply. "Somewhere you're not gonna want it if you don't smarten up."

He laughed, but kept his arms around the two women. "Can I ask for one thing?"

Maura and Jane simultaneously said, "Of course," and "Be careful," and Maura laughed.

"Do you think I could drive?" Daniel asked.

Again, the two women spoke, but this time they spoke as one. "No!"

... end.


End file.
